The 130 Days
by Nindy Kyoko Shinretzu
Summary: This fic is about the empty 130 days in which Vegeta lives at Capsule Corporation as do all Namekians. After these 130 days he sets off to look for Goku in space because it turns out he's alive, but the series hasn't shown us these 1st 130 days. B/V fic.
1. First Day of a Namekian Year

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

* * *

Chapter 1: First Day of a Namekian Year

Gosh, it had been such a strange day! First, she had hung in the arms of the six-year-old son of her alien friend Goku, while he was flying them to his father's spaceship. They had been on the planet Namek, where the grass was blue and the sky green. At that moment, that hadn't been a sight she could enjoy, though. The planet had been shaking and fountains of lava and crumbling mountains had surrounded Gohan and herself. The sky had darkened and the planet had been minutes from explosion.

After they'd reached the spaceship, instead of getting the hell off that planet, Gohan had flown off because he felt his father needed assistance in his battle on the vanishing planet. Just when she finally couldn't take another second of waiting for the boy and pushed the buttons for take-off, she'd suddenly found herself in a green tree watching a blue sky. Back on earth!

The Nameks had been transported there too, while they'd all died in the various battles on their home planet before. They seemed very much alive now, though! So did Vegeta, the evil saiyan that had come to empty planet earth and sell it, and use their dragonballs to wish for immortality. Gohan and Krillin had flown off with him when they were all on Namek though, and at that moment, Bulma, beautiful heiress and technical genius of Capsule Corporation, wasn't aware of what had happened there yet.

Krillin hadn't come back to life on earth and Goku was nowhere to be found, either. The oldest of the Nameks, their leader and their father (literally), had suddenly died of old age, and they'd gotten a telepathic call from King Kai telling them Goku killed the monster that had terrorised the universe for so long, but died in Namek's explosion. Thanks to a sudden idea from Vegeta, of all people, they figured out a way to wish their friends back to life.

After that, she'd invited all Nameks and Vegeta to stay on her father's compound, and spent the rest of the day entertaining Nameks.

She'd gotten to Gohan, questioning him about what had happened when he and Krillin had suddenly run off with Vegeta, but the child was dragged away by his mother to catch up on his studies. Piccolo, a Namek that was born on earth and that had decided to stay with his people on the compound for now, overheard her question to Gohan. He gave her a brief summary of the events on Namek and briskly left before she could comment.

Playing hostess all night had been a real drag; she was used to being waited on herself, not constantly smiling to the Nameks, reassuring them, showing them where to sleep, making them a water tank in the garden where they could tap water, which was all they ever consumed, whenever they pleased without having to enter the kitchen.

Still, when night came, she couldn't get to sleep. She'd had a decent bath for the first time in months; she thought she'd be out in no time.

But her mind kept replaying events on Namek, and kept fasting forward to how life would be like when they'd wished all of their comrades back and life returned to normal.  
Would she get back together with Yamcha? Had his death in some way closed the gap between them, both realising what it meant to lose each other? Or would that just be for a little while, and would it be on-again off-again in no time? She sighed and got out of bed, muttering something along the lines of 'screw you then, beauty-sleep' beneath her breath.

* * *

The legend had become reality. After a thousand years, even without tail or Oozaru state, a true super saiyan was born. And the tyrant that had held the saiyan race in his palm until he evaporated it almost completely, was gone.

It had supposed to be him. An empty thought, now. There was nothing left, there were no anchors keeping him steady, no desperate goals to chase… there weren't any lines whatsoever clinging him to life.

On this strange world everything was unfamiliar to him. He didn't know what to do and how to act. He could push the inferior inhabitants around; destroy them and their home if he wanted to… but then what? There would be no point to it whatsoever. Where would he go? Even with the tyrant gone, the universe was traced with the memory of Frieza.  
Sure, he could go out there and kill all past followers of Frieza; it would be a great work-out, he'd make a point, blow off some steam… But there, just there, was his problem. There was no steam. No fire, no spirit, no resolution… nothing.

After being revived from his death at the hands of his tormentor, Vegeta, prince of all saiyans, had been stumped. Like a lost boy, he'd boasted and been angry at first, but after that first urge of emotion, he'd fallen silent.

He felt like he was recuperating from a long illness, without knowing what it was. But it felt just like he was fifteen again; left for dead on a planet unfamiliar to him after a mission with Frieza's two faithful minions Zarbon and Dodoria.

Just Frieza's idea of playing a little joke on his pet-monkey.

Sullen and humiliated, he had lain there for weeks. His temperature had dropped severely, even on a planet with a temperature over 130 degrees Fahrenheit, and he'd been fighting for breath constantly.

Somehow he'd managed to find some food and get it in his system, but he'd hardly known why he went through the trouble. Everything had been pointless and the feeling of helplessness crushing on him like an avalanche trying to devour him was the same, just now.

All that kept him here was just one, faint goal. In 130 days, the earthlings would summon the Namekian dragon together with the green creatures that were given a place to stay here, like him.  
They would revive Kakarot, a low-class saiyan warrior, born with a power level of just 2 and sent to earth as an infant, from death.

Kakarot… the saiyan that didn't know of his heritage, nor cared for it.

Kakarot… that used an earthling's name.

Kakarot… the super saiyan of legend.

Kakarot… the one who let him go, "spared" him, after he could have killed him.

Kakarot… the one who avenged the people he didn't know.

The one who took away the birthright from a royal crown prince of Vegeta.

Despite the pain and bitterness, that man was the last saiyan alive beside him. And that man held the secret of legend, of the super saiyans, locked inside him.

He must have it… Maybe then… there'll be a point to it all.

But for now, the saiyan prince can't help but feel…

He should have ended at the hands of Frieza.

* * *

It was three o'clock in the morning. The television screen was flickering inside the Briefs' living room, but the couch in front of it had recently been vacated. Bulma Briefs was in the kitchen, her blue, shoulder-length hair tied in a short ponytail. She was wearing slacks and a fleece sweater, a comfortable home-outfit complemented by sneakers, for some reason.

With a glass of water in hand, the restless young woman walked out into the garden. The air was chilly, but she found it somewhat refreshing. She saw a small dinosaur crawl into her mother's magnolias when she approached and shook her head.  
'Why mom keeps those things only Kami knows', she muttered.

Still, the image of that ditzy woman in her mind always tugged her lips into a smile.

Her mood uplifted, she moved in the direction of the spaceship her father built.  
It was the same model as the one in which Goku had travelled to Namek, and in which she had almost left it. It was amazing that her father had managed to make all this from the pod in which Goku once came to earth.  
If she was smart in playing him, she might manage to get some information out of Vegeta regarding saiyan technology, or other advanced alien technologies. They could learn so much from it, and she might be able to make more high-tech things for the Z-fighters that way! They'd never dare calling her useless again, hah! Not that they could manage without her, now… Besides, it would be good for the company. Satisfied with her brilliant train of thought, she traced the smooth sides of the ship with her fingers as she moved around it.

Then she stopped dead in her tracks. She was sure her heart skipped a beat and her breath got stuck in her throat. Vegeta sat there, leaning against the ship, gazing upwards at the stars ahead of them.

'Oh shit,' she suddenly thought to herself, 'I completely forgot to show him where he can sleep!' Her heart was beating rapidly now, and she was starting to sweat.

Had he sensed she was there, or not? He'd needed a scouter to sense power-levels when he first came to earth, right?  
But then again, from what she'd seen on Namek when Vegeta came to her and Krillin to fetch their dragonball, he'd found them without a scouter because Krillin hadn't suppressed his ki in his enthusiasm about finding the dragonball. And he'd known that that pretty, but later-on, not-so-pretty Zarbon was following him.  
But maybe she was lucky this time, she just had a teeny tiny ki, right?

Just when she wanted to sneak away, something hit her. Because she is Bulma Briefs, and brilliance just hits her every now and then!

'Why the hell am I going to let this man intimidate me? He is a GUEST at my house, I don't have to sneak around him and I have just as much right to be near this spaceship as he has! I'm not going to cower away from him like some scared little girl! Yuck! No sir, no can do, not around this magnificent radiating woman in the prime of life!'

Yes, Bulma Briefs' most wonderful energetic smug spark had hit her, and she decided not to shy away from the man at the spaceship with black, flame-like, gravity-defying hair.

Bulma put on an innocent smile, walked up to Vegeta, ticked him on the shoulder and asked:

"What'cha doing?"

Vegeta stiffened and his eyes became wide, startled. He didn't respond nor did he turn to her, he didn't move at all, but he kept looking at the sky with an incredulous look on his face. It looked like all thought had just left him, having been caught off-guard.

Bulma fidgeted, not knowing what her next move should be. She decided to just go on the improvising-tour.

"I'm sorry; I forgot to show you where you could sleep."

Besides tensing his knuckles and twitching his eyes, Vegeta still wasn't responding.

"Nice weather, huh?"

And now Bulma was getting annoyed. Was she talking into empty space or something?

"Look, do you want me to show you to your room, or not?" she demanded, her voice rising.

It seemed like Vegeta had just calmed down from the shock, because he responded.

"That will be sufficient."

But Bulma, already agitated, was not one to take a tone like that.

"Ohhh, it will be 'sufficient'… Geese, your communication skills really ARE getting better with the second!" she reprimanded harshly.

But the saiyan prince just gave her a small, gruff "Hn"-sound at that, and she, deciding to drop it, gestured him to follow her inside. She wasn't sure whether he was going to follow her or not at first, but when she looked back, she saw him following. He still had that incredulous look on his face though, and he was staring at her. Gosh was he annoying! In the end, she couldn't take it anymore. That man's eyes on her back were just plain creepy!

"You're staring at me as if I were a different species," she stated.

At this, though, she somehow broke through the baffled state Vegeta had been in since she'd surprised him with her presence. His onyx eyes got a glint to them and he started smirking.

"You ARE a different species."

Whatever Bulma had expected him to respond with, this hadn't been it.

"Argh! Well it's still impolite to stare!" she reiterated, quickly losing her temper, like she always does when things don't go the way she expects or wants them to go.

Vegeta just snickered and kept looking at her as they walked inside the building, heading towards the stairs.  
Sure, he wasn't looking at her all incredulous and shocked anymore, but him looking at her with that… that _amused_ look wasn't ANY better!

"You're still staring," she said, gritting her teeth.

Vegeta purposely yawned, as if he were bored, and casually crossed his arms behind his head while he kept on staring as he walked behind her.

Then Bulma stopped walking and turned around to him.

"Vegeta, I'll tell you one, last, time… STOP IT!!!!!!!"

The haughty man seemed to consider her for a moment, tilting his head sideways. It was as if he were evaluating her and if that would lead to an important decision. Bulma tapped her foot impatiently. Then he turned his head again and smiled, in an actual innocent fashion.

"No, I don't think I will."

At first, Bulma's jaw dropped open. She just couldn't, **couldn't**, believe this man. Then she gave up and started stomping up the stairs while shouting at him.

"You monkey pain in the ass, FINE then, stare all you want! Argh, why am I even bothering to show you to your room?"

Again he followed her casually, still in good spirits, and he crossed his arms across his chest.

"Not a clue," he informed her.

By now, they'd reached second floor and were walking along the circular hallway. But again, at Vegeta's last comment, Bulma had lost her temper. And again, she stopped walking, turned to him and started shouting.

"Would you stop that already?!!"

God, this man infuriated her.

"You really shouldn't scream, it distorts your features."

And again, Vegeta surprised her with his jab. He was glowing with glee like some little kid, playing some smart-ass game in looking where his opponents' weaknesses lay.

Bulma shivered with fury, but then put a smile on her face and regained her composure.

"A low-life, like you, shouldn't dare to speak of my features," she started with venom in every syllable she uttered. "But it's probably just ignorance, as you don't know yet how absolutely perfect I am. My features are highly eligible, and that in combination with my over-the-trop brilliancy, well, you'd wish you'd be so lucky, mister."

With that, she gave a haughty huff and put her hands on her hips. But at that precise moment, the door of her parents' bedroom opened, showing her blond-haired mother in a robe and with slippers on.

"Sweetie, is everything going okay out here? We heard yelling."

Bulma whitened but before she could say anything, Vegeta took his opportunity.

"Oh no, everything is fine out here, but **someone** forgot to appoint her guest a bedroom so she had to fetch her guest at night while he was still, ahh, **outside**."

Vegeta snickered and made sure he went to the background as Bulma sent him a death-glare.

"What?! Sweetie is that true? You can't just let that poor man that risked his neck for all of you on that horrible dangerous planet and that saved my little girl from death sleep outside in the cold; that just can't happen!! Oh, poor man, Bulma that's really disappointing of you."

"Mo-hom!!", Bulma yelled, panicking and waving her arms around wildly, "It's not like that, at all, and okay I did forget to show him to his room, but he wasn't even sleeping outside anyway, he was just sitting there, and I'm going to show him now okay?"

And before her mom could respond, she grabbed Vegeta's hand and dragged him along the hallway until they reached the room Vegeta could stay in.  
When she saw his face, she quickly let go of him, opened the door to show a bed, a cupboard and a closet in an otherwise empty room, rubbed her eyes and told him that this was his room from now on and that he could do with it as he pleased.

Vegeta stalked in and stopped at the cupboard.

"As I please?"

Bulma looked at him, not understanding what he meant. Vegeta let a ball of ki form in his hand above the cupboard and sent her an explanatory smile.

"Ugh… You can't break or destroy or damage it, but you can use it and stay in it however you please." She rolled her eyes, thinking to herself that this man was like an overgrown child.

Vegeta snickered and then lay down on the bed, boots and armor and everything still on. Bulma suddenly felt insecure. She knew she was being dismissed, she had entertained him on their way to his room and now her presence was no longer necessary.  
But she couldn't help but feel that his whole demeanor changed again as he lay down; he became that closed off man with far-off thoughts again that she'd seen gazing up at the stars. And somehow, that saddened her. He had fought her with words the whole way up here, and although she'd felt like she could drink his blood, it had actually made her feel quite exhilarated, more than she'd be able to feel in eons. But now he was away again, in a world she could not reach. And, wondering what was wrong with her to think these strange thoughts, she didn't trust the world his thoughts dragged him into.

She sighed. She'd better try to catch some sleep; it'll be months until the compound will no longer be crowded by green people with antennae and until life will be normal again.

"Good night, Vegeta," she said quietly while closing the door behind her.

Just before she closed the door, she saw Vegeta look in her direction and give her a curt nod.

She sent him a warm smile and closed the door.


	2. Nothing like a Basket of Sandwiches

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

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Chapter 2: Nothing like a Basket of Sandwiches

It was a nice day of spring. Warm, but not too warm, and with a soft breeze. Birds were chirping, the trees were a lush green and Bunny's flowers were all blooming. The lovely weather and the sight of her beautiful garden had obviously lifted Bunny's spirits, as she spent time practically drooling over her rhododendrons as she watered them intervened by time she spent twirling around with her watering can singing some song called 'May Spring Flowers' by a band called 'Flora Tune'.

Luckily for Bulma Briefs, taste was not proven to be something genetic, and even if it would someday be proven otherwise, she had obviously not inherited this particular side to her mother. Because despite the nice, inviting weather, we find our cerulean-haired scientist below in the basement-leveled laboratory, bent over some device together with her lavender-haired father and his obsidian cat.

"Dad, don't you think so too? I repaired this scouter ages ago, but I never thought of the possibility back then. But if we just figure this last bit of the mechanism out, I really think we'll be able to make a device that transmits everything said in a room to Capsule Corp. We won't have to deal with an appliance that records everything said anymore; that only endangers the company when someone finds the thing. It'll seem harmless when someone finds it, even after testing. And we can keep an eye on concurring companies."

Mr. Briefs frowned and lit a cigarette. His daughter was looking at him expectantly, and he didn't want to disappoint her. But what she was suggesting just didn't seem right, and he really worried about the moral standards of his little girl every now and then.

"Sweetheart, I see your point, but it wouldn't be right to listen in on other companies. I do know where you're coming from; being practically the only technological company that manages to get products on the market and that people have interest in has made us a lot of enemies over the years. And I would like to study the communication-mechanisms of this scouter more; it's remarkable how it doesn't transmit any other sound than speech, and that even across galaxies without any form of satellite-connection or electricity-web… It is astounding and I think we can make a lot of products thanks to this contraption. But despite having been attacked by envious companies in the past, I refuse to listen in elsewhere."

Bulma's shoulders sagged. This was probably what she ought to expect from her father, and it was a good quality in him that she admired, she knew she lacked it; she would always head out for self-preservation.

But still, that man could be so naïve! How many times had other companies almost wrecked theirs now? How many times had she cleaned up contraptions other companies had sneaked into their laboratory to spy? How many times had a scientist her father thought a friend taken credit for his hard work, and had he just let it slide?

And here she was, with a perfectly good idea to prevent such things and protect their company and more importantly, her family and stubborn father, and he just threw it aside!

How on earth would her parents be okay if she went to another planet again? She'd only heard about the intercepted company phone-calls and the infiltration of a lackey in her father's company while she'd been dragonball-hunting on Namek yesterday-evening, and she'd spent all night in the lab since then.

She sighed and gave her father a tired smile.

"Well, it's true that there are **lots** of impressive things we can create if we crack this mechanism first. The people that can afford it could get cell phones that never fail them, right? There are lots of things we can offer people improvement on. I hope you're ready for the conferences, dad!"

Her father snickered at that one.

"Just do me a favor?" she pressed on, knowing that she might be pushing her luck. Her father's smile faded, but he nodded attentively, urging her to go on.

"At least think about it, dad. We could automatically record everything that the semi-scouter transmits here on Capsule Corp, we could have someone from security screen the recordings every day, and we'd never even have to know of it if there isn't anything suspicious recorded. It would be top-secret and we'd never stick our noses in business that doesn't concern us, we'll only hear of it if it could be or become a potential security breech to us. Please? I'd like to know you and mom are safe whenever I'm not around."

That touched him; his eyes imbued with tears at those words.

"I'll consider it, Bulma."

She nodded. "Thanks dad." She stood up, readying herself to walk upstairs, grab something to eat, and go outside. She looked back at her dad, thinking she ought to say that she was going and where to, but the man was already busying himself with the scouter, practically frantic with glee at the sight of the ingenious contraption. She smiled and walked out of the lab.

It wasn't until Bulma walked out of the house that she noticed how warm it was. She quickly took her woollen jersey off, Gods, was it really that cold in the lab? Why did her father never notice that? But then again, she became just as absent-minded as he was after getting into a project. The difference was that her dad _always_ was absent-minded.

Then she heard voices. Singing. There were voices singing. It actually sounded quite in tune, and she really started to get the feeling some school children and their female teacher were rehearsing for the 'Sound of Music' musical just outside the compound.

When she turned the block of their circular garden, she burst out laughing. Her mother and about five Namekian children were singing her mom's favorite song 'May Spring Flowers' enthusiastically and the adults watched in awe. It really was quite a picture.

___________________________________________________________________________

He had been living on earth for a week now. Just that thought alone was the most absurd and distressing thing. He had _lived_ on planet Vegeta, and that haven had gone when he turned five and his father gave him to Frieza. Ever since then, Vegeta did not _live_ on planets.

He purged them of every possible life form and then went again.

He did not _live_ on Frieza's spaceship or his bases or in the regeneration-tanks he always ended up in. He was _kept_ there like some spare toy, _ordered_ there like a soldier, or _put_ there to remain able to fulfill some job he'd never chosen.

Sure, he spent as much time as he could making sure everyone on those places feared him, he spent as much time as he could making demands and passing on orders, and he spent as much time as he could reminding everyone of his heritage.

But those who mattered would always remind him of the harsh reality of his position.

No, Vegeta did not _live_ on planets. And to be on a planet without having a course of action he could follow, a strategic plan of destruction, was just ominous.

To make matters worse, the people here did not fear him. He had _at least_ expected a "Don't kill anyone!"-warning from these strange violence-fearing humans when he'd decided to scout the planet he was on properly on his third day. But no, nothing. The blond bimbo even tried to push some food on him to take on his 'picnic-trip'.

When he'd stalked into the kitchen on the second day, planning on demanding some food and taking matters into his own hands now he was stuck there waiting for Kakarot anyway, food was already there waiting for him. It was like that blond woman had a sense for it. She simply never gave him the opportunity to demand something. Not that he _shouldn't_ be treated that way, after all, he was royalty! But this just wasn't normal and it thoroughly confused him.

Every night, he'd eaten with the Briefs family in silence. Well, _he_ had been the silent one, the woman and her mother had been chatting away constantly.

But he'd done what he could, distancing himself from them and their conversations, and even the blond woman no longer tried to drag him into their trivial chit-chat. He'd even heard her comment, oh so brightly, that "that wonderful, handsome Vegeta needs his space."

It was worrisome though how Bulma's airhead-mother was constantly batting her eyelashes and giggling in his presence and making the most inappropriate, vulgar comments on how he looked like. And what was worse, it worried Vegeta that Mrs. Briefs' attitude, viewing Vegeta as some eligible stud, seemed to rub off on her daughter.

Of course, Bulma'd already called Vegeta 'cute' without the ditz her help before; when she'd first invited him to stay at her father's compound. And she'd obviously inherited the knack of obsessing with everything moderately attractive she set her eyes on from her mother. She'd already proven that flaw when she met Zarbon on Namek.

The memory of the priceless look of exasperation on her face after he'd finally gotten Zarbon to transform and show her his ugly self still made him snicker.

Still, even though the self-loving woman seemed to be just as annoyed by her mother as he was and seemed to feel more than a tad humiliated by her behavior; she too had had times at the dinner table in which she couldn't stop looking at him, bursting into girlish giggles and looking again. Like some pathetic earthling schoolgirl.

But then again, the bratty girl couldn't help it. He **was** amazing. He'd have to remind himself to make sure to give her some jabs the next time she was in a silly mood like that, though. He could make her feel so ashamed… hah, that would be funny!

He had to watch his back, though… it wasn't normal for his thoughts to get side-tracked like this and dawdle on these insignificant humans. He shouldn't allow it; they'd shape him like some toy before he'd become aware of it. He had but one goal, one reason: Kakarot.

___________________________________________________________________________

Vegeta almost started gagging when he entered the compound again after he'd gone to cool off in a forest near the city. The bubblehead was dancing and singing with Namekian children, as if there wasn't a care in the world. His ears; it was like torture.

And there she was, miss "I have blue hair and I'm so pretty and brilliant at the same time", looking at the scene in awe. She was practically beaming. This was probably another one of those sights the female would refer to as 'cute'. Only Kami knew why the woman had decided **he** belonged to 'one of those sights' too. But then again, insanity seemed to run in her family.

He shrugged his head, put his hands on his hips and stalked past the woman haughtily.

Bulma's eyes widened in surprise as Vegeta walked across the path right in front of her, placing himself between her and her mother with the Nameks, heading determinedly to the courtyard without passing her a glance.

"Hey Vegeta, I haven't seen you around since yesterday."

"Hn."

Well, so much for acknowledgement.

___________________________________________________________________________

"Did you have fun with the little green kids mom?" Bulma asked, half charmed, half amused.

"Oh well sure we did, I haven't had so much fun in years, we should really tell them to stay and not leave for another planet, I've become as attached to them as to my sweet dinosaurs!"

"Ugh mom, they're not your pets you know!" Bulma exclaimed, exasperated by how her mom could think sometimes.

"Anyway, it just wouldn't be practical if they stayed here forever, they have fun here but they really need their peace and their own place. Their planet was a war-zone when I was there with Gohan and Krillin, but their unscathed nature pretty much said enough."

She smiled at the memory. It had just been a week since she'd been there, and it already seemed nostalgic, dream-like, even. As if it had never happened.

"Mm? Well, whatever you say honey," her mom said absent-mindedly while placing plates from the sink in the dishwasher, probably having stopped listening after her daughter's line of thought became too complicated for her to follow.

"Why do you always insist on filling the dishwasher and cooking things up yourself? We have robots for that, you know!"

Her mom had been like that since she was little, but it never stopped getting on her nerves. But since Bunny had dealt with this issue of her daughter's so many times before, she just giggled until her daughter decided it was time to exit the kitchen.

___________________________________________________________________________

Humming all the while, Bunny was filling various sandwiches strewn across the dresser with ham and honey mustard sauce, turkey and ketchup curry, roast beef and lettuce and last but not least, mushroom sausage and herb butter.

With a growling stomach and stretching, her husband, who had just now, five o'clock in the afternoon, left his laboratory, walked up behind her.

"Is that for me?" he asked, saliva already gathering in his mouth.

"Oh no-no-no," she replied, wagging her finger disapprovingly. "This is for Vegeta. You know these saiyans have to eat, otherwise they get famished, and Vegeta left this morning without eating **anything** at all. And he still hasn't shown his face in the kitchen, either. And since we're going to have a barbeque with our neighbors tonight I figured Vegeta would rather eat something by himself. Would you be a sweetheart and fetch our daughter for me? I think she's in her room, catching up on some of the sleep she missed last night."

Bunny smiled sweetly, nudging him to leave her to her sandwich-preparations.

"Eh, barbeque? Since when…?"

But he swallowed the question away, seeing the very rare, angry look that appeared in his wife's eyes. That barbeque was obviously something he ought to have known about.

"Err, I'll eh, go fetch Bulma!" And, the wise man that he was, he ran for it.

The look of anger faded away from Bunny immediately as the stupid smile plastered itself on her face again and she continued preparing the sandwiches, humming all the while.

___________________________________________________________________________

Bulma sauntered along the pebbled path towards their courtyard with a huge, braided basket filled to the top with sandwiches in her right hand, being severely annoyed with the task she had been dragged out of her much-needed beauty-sleep for. Why did **she** have to bring Vegeta his food? If her mom thought it so important, why didn't she do it herself? Besides, it was his own fault if he stayed outside instead of coming into the house if he was hungry.

Sighing, she sped up. Man, this basket was actually heavy. As she walked up to the courtyard, she didn't notice Vegeta at first. There were a couple of Namek-children running around, and a couple of the older Nameks busied themselves with a puzzle her father had given them. Piccolo was leaning against a tree, blending in with the green perfectly.

She walked on, scanning the courtyard until she finally noticed the saiyan prince, sitting against a tree with his eyes closed. Her mom had told her that he'd been gone all night and day and that he'd disappeared into the courtyard since he got back. What the hell was that man brooding over if he even forgot the important fact that he had to eat?

The bright scientist decided she was tired after having been woken for such an unnecessary task and sat down next to Vegeta, placing the basket in front of him. At first he didn't respond at all, which wasn't something new, but this time around, she was confident he was very aware of her presence. That man really had an attitude-problem!

"Caaaaaveman... oy!!! Food in front of you at twelve o'clock."

Vegeta opened his eyes. He looked tired somehow. Strange, because Piccolo had told her somewhere yesterday-afternoon that he was surprised he'd never felt Vegeta's ki surge since they lived on the compound. This meant he wasn't training, or at least not doing anything that resembled what would be training for someone using advanced ki.

But maybe he'd done training today? She didn't know, but she still felt something ought to change in Piccolo's demeanor when he'd been raising his ki signature.

Without a look or word to her, Vegeta pulled the basket towards him and grabbed a turkey-sandwich out of its contents, chewing slowly.

Bulma shrugged; she was just too tired to care. She closed her eyes, feeling strangely calmed by the playful sounds and innocent laughter from the Namek-kids and the hard-to-hear sounds from the puzzle-making adults. They were so quiet she thought she'd, with her eyes closed, actually be able to mistake them for trees if she didn't know better, their leaves rustled by the wind. These Nameks had an air of seeming like just another part of nature.

For the first time, Vegeta started eyeing the woman next to him. He was working on his third sandwich, a ham-one. Was she actually sleeping, hardly an inch away from him, against the tree he'd chosen as a good spot to be, well, left alone?

"You can leave now."

He didn't know if she'd hear that if she was already in dreamland, but it was worth the try. He didn't feel like going through more trouble than she was worth to get her away from him.

Bulma half-opened her eyes, yawning.

"Thank you for reminding me that it's physically possible for me to leave now, Vegeta. I really think I'd have forgotten otherwise. Well, night-night."

And she closed her eyes again.

It had taken a while, but now, he was surprised. What the hell was she thinking?

"Woman, I'm _ordering_ you to leave or you just might end up in a **very** miserable state."

His charcoal eyes were looking at her intently, unwavering, waiting for an answer.

The woman really didn't seem to take his threat seriously, though.

"Well?" Vegeta demanded. "What will it be?"

Cyan eyes were looking at Vegeta now, pleading tiredly and innocently.

"C'mon Vegeta, I had to wake up from my sleep and drag that heavy basket of sandwiches **all** the way over here for you, and now my poor legs are too tired to walk back! I didn't sleep at all last night, and I'm not going to molest my poor body any further by walking back. No sir, say whatever you want, I'm staying put."

Vegeta grunted.

"Woman, I'm saying you'll be hurt if you continue sitting here!"

Again, she yawned. "Yes, I'm noticing."

And instead of standing up, like he was still half-expecting her to, she let herself slide along the tree even further, brushing against him in the process.

Either her human senses were too cut off from anything to notice, or she just didn't care.

Vegeta, severely uncomfortable now, seemed to be stewing on his next step.

Lift the woman up, put her over his shoulders and drag her inside? Then she would get her way.

Let it slide and just keep eating, hoping she'd leave eventually? Then she would get her way too.

He could just blast her away, and he probably should, but The Namek, as he always called the first Namek he'd set eyes on, Piccolo, was standing near them. And sure, he was no match for the great Vegeta, but it just wasn't worth the trouble. He wanted to wait for Kakarot more than anything else, and wreaking havoc here wouldn't help him there.

He could just lift her up and put her against some other tree. She actually seemed asleep now, maybe she wouldn't even notice. He didn't want to risk her shrieking.

He weighed the option, but realizing he had to touch her for that, he decided on just continuing his meal and pretending he didn't realize the woman was practically sleeping _on_ him by now. No, wait, that wasn't working either. Her head was lolling sideways and had started resting on his shoulder now. This was just great.

Why did he, prince of all saiyans, have to put up with this? Just because he didn't want a couple of green beans to get upset? He ought to be king of the saiyan race, or a ruler of galaxies. What the hell had he been reduced to?! Damn it all. This was all Kakarot's fault.

Very carefully, making sure not to wake the woman up, he pushed the woman away from him a couple of inches.

The problem was her head, though. Filled with her million flaws and stupidities, it was quite heavy. And it seemed to be heading towards the ground. But catching her and placing her head someplace else, seemed a little too much like something Kakarot would do.

So Bulma's head hit hard against the ground, Bulma awoke with a shriek, Nameks started staring and Vegeta began smiling. He had been wrong, he felt way more comfortable now. He took another turkey-sandwich and offered the woman a roast-beef one, smiling all the while.

"You want one? You should really do something about that heavy head of yours."

Bulma's cheeks flushed and she started shouting at him.

"What the hell did you have to do that for jerk? I think I have a bump on my head!"

"Oh really? I'd have thought you were too sleepy to notice. It suits you, though," Vegeta answered, practically dripping with glee at how _humorous_ he'd apparently started to find this situation.

"Do you want this, though?" he asked, still waving the beef-sandwich in front of her.

Maybe it didn't work for Bulma, but him offering her a sandwich definitely worked for the Nameks, as it had obviously been a gesture that had made them decide it was okay and Vegeta wasn't posing a real danger to their blue-haired hostess. They were minding their own business again. He didn't know about The Namek though, he hadn't left his tree but he was too far away to see if there were any changes in his features.

Bulma's stomach was growling though, it was already past six and her mom was already barbequing with the neighbors. God, she hated those people. They were so superficial, it was just not normal.

She shrugged her shoulders. Why the hell not? She was hungry, and Vegeta was still better company than they were, at least. She'd have to give him that much credit. He'd never ask all the unnecessary questions and say the unnecessary things they did.

She grabbed the sandwich out of his hands, and started taking bites off of it. Vegeta snickered and continued eating. After she'd finished it, she decided she could take her chances and sneak a turkey-sandwich out of the saiyan's basket. She hadn't even been wrong, besides raising his eyebrow; he didn't even attempt to stop her.

"What have you been doing outside of Capsule Corp all day?" she began conversationally.

"Don't get your hopes up," he replied.

She laughed.

"Hey, you can't blame a girl for trying."

She winked at him at that.

He gave her an exasperated look. Gods, she was acting just like when she'd called him cute again. And she was so vulgarly inappropriate, trying to make conversation with a saiyan prince like that, with a warrior that could exterminate her without the blink of an eye!

She giggled, seeing how frustrated he looked. He was so cute when he became angry but, with all his power, felt powerless to change the situation he was in. Like a little boy. He could be so uncomfortable with the most normal things. He really was a prude; not used to _anything_.

Giggling once more, she stole another sandwich, one with mushroom sausage this time, while she was still working on her turkey-one, and stood up from the tree.

"See you around, Vegeta… good luck with the tree-hugging; I'm sure the Nameks will be ready to take you in any time now." She laughed at her little joke as she walked back to the house, avoiding the barbeque with a large detour; God, she was so amazing!

Vegeta, now with a couple of Nameks staring at him again, flushed, jumped up, gathered his basket, (God, why had the woman put it all in such a girly basket, it wasn't as if he could leave without the food; he'd only eaten eight sandwiches so far), and flew off with the sound of laughter in his back. Laughter directed at him.

Damn that woman. He had never felt so humiliated! How dare she. How dare she.

But he'd get her back for this one.

He would.


	3. Gohan's Escapade

**Author's Notes:** I just wanted to say a big "thank you" to all of the wonderful people who've reviewed my story so far, it's been a long time since I last wrote stories and it's good to see how my writing's received so that I know where I stand. I really appreciate all the reviews and seeing people are enjoying the story motivates me to write. ARIGATOU!!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

* * *

Chapter 3: Gohan's Escapade

Another mountain vanished from the face of the earth. It happened in a desolate desert region, so no-one except the earthlings responsible for mapping the earth would really mind this little landscaping-spree a certain saiyan prince was on.  
After the wasteland had become an even plane, apart from some shrubs cheekily sticking their noses out of the ground here and there, the peak of the rage Vegeta had been working off seemed to falter. He allowed his ki to drop and sank to the debris he'd created below him.

The memory of the smug look on the woman's face and the laughter of the Nameks was still bugging him, but the exercise had done him some good. He hadn't done any training at all since he got to earth, and although he wouldn't admit it; the bait he'd been given by that idiotic woman to go all-out and feel his ki spike around him again had really managed to lift some of the fog that had been clouding his mind and interfering with his reasoning. For the first time since he'd died, his mind was clear of all thoughts and he actually felt alive.

Still, how she'd tried to humiliate him made him shiver with anger. No-one took the prince of all saiyans lightly and got away with it, no-one!  
Yet these earthlings had already done just that so many times. Even Kakarot, a low-class saiyan warrior, had got under his skin millions of times, and every time, the superior power of the other had rendered him helpless to make amends.  
It was becoming increasingly aggravating how he seemed to _allow_ these earthlings to push him around and how a race of idiotic weaklings actually seemed able to faze him.

And even though he blamed nothing but her stupidity for it, it was that woman especially who fazed him. Recklessly, she seemed to find it normal to intrude upon his space and start asking him questions, as if she somehow either didn't realise or didn't care that he'd destroyed millions of planets and that he could end her pitiful existence without second thought, too!

But maybe she knew just as well as he did that he was fooling himself. After all, he wouldn't do anything to earth's inhabitants because they would wish Kakarot back, and he'd have to answer to the super saiyan later on. And he _wanted_ Kakarot back because he needed something from him, so he wouldn't destroy the earth and its dragonballs. And he _wanted_ to be around when they wished the earthling saiyan back, and the best place to be for that, was… right… her compound. Where he was dependent on her and her family to be permitted stay.

He grimaced. This whole situation was just disgusting. But then again, he was a warrior. And whenever a warrior faces a situation he isn't pleased with; he simply changes tactics.  
He would battle this woman her own way. He'd just have to bide his time until the opportunity to humiliate her and make her pay for crossing him struck.

He smiled.

He could wait…

* * *

In a distant forest we find a small house in between the green, where a young boy with raven hair and eyes is sitting on his desk before the window in utmost concentration; pen in hand and tongue sticking just slightly out of his mouth. An untouched glass of orange juice with a straw was standing at the right end of the desk; the afternoon sun had warmed it by now.

"Let's see: "Translate the following word problem into an equation: my age in years y plus 20 is equal to four times my age, minus 10. Then solve the equation and say what your age would be according to this assignment." Wow, that makes me four years older than I am! Gosh, I wonder if I'd even have to do this when I'm that old, and what me and dad and mom will be up to!" Gohan was babbling while doing some quick math.

"This question was easy," he mumbled to himself as he wrote down the equation and that he would be ten years old and drew a picture of him, his dad and his mom fishing beside it, writing 'what me and my mom and dad are going to do when I become this old'.

He yawned and went to the next task.

"Solve the following equation: 5x – 6 = 3x – 8."

The boy started chewing on the back of his pen as he mulled the equation over in his head. Then he started scribbling below the question. '2x – 6 = –8, 2x = –2, x = –1.'  
Bored, Gohan yawned again, rubbed his eyes and, popping back and forth, almost fell off his chair. "This is too monotonous, what does mom think I'll learn from this anyway? Do orthopedists really need to do equations when they help someone with a broken arm?"

Having a very visual intelligence, Gohan's imagination immediately started to portray a scene where he was in his twenties and had a client with a broken arm he had to help.

"Well sir, your bone has fractured, which mean I need to calculate this with fractures, and I need to know the place so let's see, 1 ⅓ minus x equals 10 divided by ⅜ times x. Ah yes, it's right there!" said the imaginary Gohan, poking his client in the arm and causing a pain-filled shriek. Gohan started to laugh at his cheesy fantasy, his hand scratching the back of his head, and still popping back and forth on his chair, he really fell to the floor this time.

"This is not the day to study," Gohan decided. He kept lying on the wooden floor, looking at his ceiling, thinking of what Dende would be doing at Capsule Corp right now. Albeit an alien, he was the first friend his own age Gohan had ever made. And now his mom was making him study because he had to catch up on _all_ the homework he'd missed when he was off with Bulma and Krillin on Namek, trying to wish Piccolo and the others back. And they'd wished Piccolo back and the others would come back soon too, as would his dad, and here he was, not getting to spend _any_ time with his master Piccolo or with his new friend!

At long last, in a moment of rebellion, Gohan decided his mom was being unfair. He'd gone through so much trouble, coming along to Namek, and now that he'd gone there, he was being kept to his room all day. As if it had all been for nothing.  
While they were all right there, at Bulma's place! And he deserved to be there, too.

* * *

Piccolo, suddenly smiling, nudged the boy Dende to look at the sky. A purple dragon-like creature, with a sand-colored tummy, wings and two white horns on his head was nearing the courtyard with a small figure riding it, waving frantically at them.

Dende started beaming. "Gohan!" he exclaimed enthusiastically as he intuitively recognised his friend's pure, idiosyncratic ki signature.

"Hi there," came the reply from Gohan, a smile from ear to ear plastered on his face.

The two friends started laughing and jumping up and down, clutching each other's hands. Then the Namekian six-year-old noted Icarus standing behind his best friend. Upon closer inspection the creature seemed to have four much smaller ivory horns beside the two large ones, and its aqua, gentle eyes were intense. Dende gave a surprised squeal when it pushed its stump snout against his cheek, searching to make friends and smell his scent for future reference. When Icarus decided it was okay, it started licking Dende's cheek.

Gohan laughed. "Gosh, I think he likes you Dende!"

Meanwhile, Piccolo put his hand on Gohan's head with its gel-restrained hair, causing his pupil to close his eyes as if he were soaking up the warmth that radiated from the Namek. And he might actually be doing just that; having such a natural ki ability, Nameks were very attuned to subtleties in ki circulation with the living nature around them, even subconsciously.

"What's his name?" Dende informed shyly, still being licked by the purple dragon.

"I call him Icarus," Gohan answered proudly, "And he takes me wherever I like to go. You can ride him too, if you want too! He likes you, I don't think he would mind, right Icarus?"

Apparently understanding the young demi-saiyan, the lilac creature made an approving noise.

Watching the two innocents taking turns riding it and having fun, Piccolo couldn't help but smile. He felt Nail close to his surface though; he was probably at fault for this sensation of tranquility. That guy **really** ought to start paying rent.

* * *

After having spent the entire night incinerating things and the entire morning and first half of the afternoon training, Vegeta decided it had been enough.  
He was flying toward the Capsule Corporation compound when he sensed a familiar ki soaring the skies above the place. He gritted his teeth. Kakarot's brat.  
He quickly scanned the compound. There he was. Riding on some animal; pathetic. The boy was taking several plunges and doing several flips. Heh. Probably wanted to impress that little healing-friend of his and the other Nameks. As if that was hard to do.

It didn't take the saiyan prince long to decide he would ignore the mongrel.  
He had more important matters to attend to.

* * *

Despite the late hour, the aqua-haired vixen was only just rising from her beauty-sleep. She had had quite a bit to catch up on, having skipped the night before completely. And beside that, even last night, it had taken her quite some time before she managed to drift off to dreamland. Her head was just so filled; mulling everything over that had occurred on Namek, and how life was so different now from when she'd left off. She couldn't shrug the sensation off that even after the Nameks would leave; life would never be the same again.

She smiled as she memorised the dream she'd been having, though. She and Goku had been chasing a large, lime green dinosaur with violet spots on it to get the six-star dragonball the creature had stolen from them, but when they caught onto it Goku had insisted on making the dinosaur better first. He'd thought the spots must mean it was ill.  
Bulma snickered. So typically Goku.  
She wondered what he would be doing in Other World right now. King Kai hadn't been in touch with him, so he probably was in another quadrant because of Namek's location in the universe. That's why they had to wish Goku and Krillin back to the earth's check-in station first, right? Knowing him, he'd probably be having loads of fun exploring.

Her stomach grumbled. 'Yeah yeah, I know, you want food,' she mumbled as she got out of bed, heading towards the bathroom to take a well-deserved shower first.

After she stepped out of the cabin and finished drying herself off with her beautiful, pink towel and purple hairdryer, she entered her closet and sought out an azure top and indigo jeans to wear, and started perfecting her hair with her styling iron.

When she finished, she was confident that she was completely irresistible.  
And in Bulma Briefs' world, that meant she was ready to face the world! Almost screaming something along the lines of 'World, here I come!' just with her smile, she went to the kitchen to fetch herself some breakfast. She needed toast with butter and jam, desperately!

* * *

This was just his luck. After more than 20 hours of straight training, Vegeta's 'more important matters' had led him to the kitchen, first. And there she was, that uncongenial, incorrigible woman, wolfing down a plate filled with toast in a most distasteful manner.  
Vegeta grunted in disgust. He snatched a piece of toast from her overly-filled plate to halt the worst of his hunger, receiving an angry glare from Bulma he chose to disregard, and started to search the cupboards and refrigerator for anything edible.  
With a plate, cutlery, various crusty bread-rolls and an uncooked chicken in his arms, he returned to the mahogany table, sitting down demonstratively. Bulma raised an eyebrow and started to become quite anxious as to what Vegeta would concoct with all these ingredients, but decided on letting the spoiled prince figure it out by himself for once.  
She closed her eyes in alarm as she saw Vegeta holding the chicken up high with his left hand, generating ki with his right. But when she opened her eyes, she realized it had all been done rather neatly; the chicken had been roasted entirely and Vegeta was already cutting it in tiny bits which he put in the bread-rolls he was cutting open at the same time. He was in complete control of the amount of ki he applied and worked meticulously. Cocking an eyebrow, she noted annoyed that she'd found this show of his rather impressive. And that had probably been just his intention. She shrugged it off and focused on her toast again.

Minutes and minutes passed by in which nothing but the chewing of food could be heard in the kitchen. The clock on the cream wall noted with a soft 'cuckoo' Mrs. Briefs adored so much that it was half past three, but neither Bulma nor Vegeta looked up from their respective plates. Both were sitting at opposite sides of the table, albeit both at the side that was left to them. It would seem that two people could not possibly pay _less_ attention to the other, yet there was a definite tension hanging around the dark kitchen table.

A tension broken by the sudden entrance of two young boys, one with a milky-white skin color and the other spring-green, accompanied by an older man with a darker shade of green.

The grumpy saiyan didn't bother to look up from his plate, but Bulma immediately looked up in surprise.

"Hey kid, I thought your mom was making you stay at Mount Paoz to study?"

The white-skinned boy blushed and started fidgeting.

"Well you see, um, I really wanted to go see Dende and Piccolo and…"

"Don't worry about it, if I had been you I would have run off eons ago! You're most welcome to stay here, just make sure you know how to handle your mom when she notices you've gone missing," the Capsule Corp heiress winked at the boy mischievously.

"Heh heh, yeah," Gohan replied, scratching the back of his head and smiling awkwardly. Then there was a loud growling noise and Gohan's face suddenly became as red as a radish.

"We came in here because Gohan hasn't eaten since noon and he was getting hungry, ma'am," Dende chipped in helpfully.  
Gohan had started fidgeting uncomfortably again and seemed to be studying some intriguing patterns in the granite floor. That child was too polite and shy for his own good!

"Sure kiddo, why didn't you say so? Nothing to be embarrassed about, a saiyan needs to eat, even half a saiyan! And I think my mom stuck something in the freezer this morning that you're really going to love; no doubt about it."

His curiosity taking the best of him, Gohan followed Bulma to the refrigerator where she opened the freezer-compartment, giving the boy various buckets of ice-cream to hold. There was chocolate-chip, cookie-dough, banana-sprinkles, vanilla ice-cream with marshmallows and white chocolate chips, banana ice-cream with chocolate sauce, chocolate ice-cream with brownies, strawberry ice-cream with caramel sauce… Gohan's mouth was watering by now.

"Is all of this gonna be for me? But my mom says this kind of stuff is bad for me."

"Oh, is that so?" Bulma replied, annoyed at the strict measures Chi-Chi took raising her half-human child. "Well, here, just eat some rice and kelp-salad along with your ice-cream and have a couple of mangos and oranges; you'll be fine then."

Gohan started beaming at her as she threw a jug of salad already made and eight pieces of fruit atop of the pile of ice-cream buckets he was holding and took a pot of converted rice her mom had cooked before out to heat in the micro-wave.

With a pile that stuck out above his head Gohan barely made it to the head of the table. The saiyan prince found he was sitting a little too close to the boy, and changed his seat so that he sat at the right side of the table. After Bulma was finished waiting on the boy though, giving him bowls and spoons for his ice-cream, an extra bowl for his warm rice accompanied by a couple of chopsticks and cutlery and a plate for his salad and fruit, she sat down on her place at the table again. With twitching eyes, Vegeta noted that she was sitting in front of him now.

But he was definitely not going to sit near the boy who took up half the table with his food and had vanilla ice-cream up to his nose by now.

Then, the table filling, the healing-kid sat down beside Bulma, a glass of water in hand. Kid probably didn't want to be left out with his friend crunching down on so many foods while he didn't eat anything. Vegeta snickered. These Nameks were like a bunch of plants; he wouldn't be surprised if they started rooting when they just stood still long enough.

"This stuff's great, Bulma," Gohan said with his mouth full with strawberry ice-cream, caramel sauce and even a piece of mango; all inhaled in one bite. The cyan-haired beauty smiled. "Glad to hear that kiddo, just enjoy yourself, okay?" The child smiled appreciatively before digging in on some of the rice he'd mixed with cookie dough, for some reason.

Vegeta rolled his eyes at the scene. Why on earth these earthlings insisted on spoiling the brat like that, he'd never know. Oh yes, he _knew_, it was that darn 'cute' thing again. But they completely ruined the boy who was supposed to be trained and treated as a saiyan warrior; looking aside his mingled heritage, his various sudden explosions of power had proven he earned a saiyan upbringing for as far as Vegeta was concerned.  
And here he sat, with even The Namek fussing over him; he'd freed the boy's fruit of its skin with his laser-eyes so the boy didn't have to go through the trouble of peeling. It had just been a gesture and paranoid as Vegeta could be, he was actually confident The Namek had not been aware of doing it; but still, he had done it.  
The boy was laughing and smiling and stuffing his face and feeling 'loved' as the earthlings insisted on calling it, as if he was having an own secret party; just for him. He was being sugarcoated with attention like some puppy. These earthlings were softening him beyond recognition, all the potential that his saiyan blood gave him being washed through the drain.

"Look at yourself," he addressed Gohan harshly. "You look like a breathing confection with all that ice-cream on your face. Pitiful. You're a disgrace to the saiyan race."

Gohan looked at the man with a bewildered, incomprehensive look on his face, but didn't really seem to take offence. Bulma, on the other hand, jumped in immediately.

"How dare you talk to him like that you pigheaded monkey! Gohan is lucky he's not an insensitive bastard like you and probably the most of your pathetic race, and he sure as hell doesn't need to become one! Besides, kids need to have some fun every now and then. Don't blame Gohan because you had such a crappy, ice-cream-less childhood!" she huffed.

Side-stepping the ridiculous 'ice-cream-less childhood'-comment, Vegeta replied.

"You're spoiling the brat. He has the potential of becoming a great warrior, yet you reduce him to some mascot you can show around because he looks 'cute', a puppy that needs pats on the back to be able to achieve _anything_ moderately worthwhile. Keep up the good work and he won't be able to do anything himself. I'm sure Kakarot will be pleased when he returns and finds his son hasn't been doing anything else than studying useless earth subjects for his uptight mother and getting his face stuffed with ice-cream and cookies here."

"What do you know of it, Vegeta?" Piccolo intervened. He had been standing against the cream wall just beside the clock since they'd entered the kitchen.

"Yeah don't worry about it," Gohan added friendly, in a tone that suggested he was, against everyone's expectations and in contrast with the anxious look on Dende's face, feeling quite at ease. Apparently he really had gotten used to the saiyan prince on Namek. "Piccolo trained me really hard; there was this time when I fell into a river with a **really** strong current and I had to see how I got out. And there were times I fell down from mountains too and then I had to find the way back up all by myself. And he never gave me any breaks from training, he was really strict, but it worked great and he's like my uncle, now. But my mom's making me study and I'm just taking a break here, there's nothing wrong with that; you should spend some time having fun too! Doesn't make me spoiled or anything," he stated, chuckling innocently.

The older saiyan huffed, apparently accepting Gohan's explanation or at least leaving it for what it was, and turned to Piccolo. "It's a long way from getting him to find his own way out of hazardous situations to peeling his fruit for him, Namek; what happened?"

"Just shut it, Vegeta." Piccolo clenched his fists. He really couldn't take any more of that man's arrogant and presumptuous comments and his instigating sarcasm.

"Yeah, come off your high-horse for goodness' sake," Bulma chimed in.

"In case you didn't know, it's nice to see a kid happy. Sometimes people do something nice for someone else _just_ to see someone smiling. I know you're not familiar with the concept, but that's how it's done here on earth. And if you don't like that; you know how to leave. We're not changing our customs to please you. So I'd just behave yourself if I were you."

Apparently satisfied with her warning, the blue-haired woman sat down as if she were royalty and began to eat her last piece of toast. Raspberry-jam, yum!

"Whatever woman," Vegeta said, emptying the last contents of his plate in his mouth and swallowing before he went on. "I guess you would know; after all, you're the only one in this room people have done 'nice things' for constantly _just_ to see you smiling and who never had to do anything to earn these things in return."  
And the saiyan prince exited the kitchen, snickering as Gohan commented without thinking on that being 'kind of true' to the taken-aback Bulma. His goal had been reached.


	4. Nightmares and Concussions

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

___________________________________________________________________________

Chapter 4: Nightmares and Concussions

A week had gone by since young Gohan had decided to pay a spur-of-the-moment visit to his friends at Capsule Corporation.

The child's mother had taken him home after throwing a tantrum; blaming the Capsule Corp heiress and her son's former kidnapper, Piccolo, for everything that was wrong with the world she had to raise a child in and for her boy's assumed academic failure now that he'd missed out on his afternoon of studying. If only Roshi, Krillin and Yamcha had been there she'd have been sure to blame her son's behavior on their 'unhealthy gang influences'.

Bulma sighed, turning from her right to her left side, trying to get comfortable below her fuchsia sheets. Several strands of blue, wavy hair seemed a lot more at peace than their owner was as they lay still on the satin pillow.

Roshi had, luckily, decided to read his dirty magazines on his _own_ island. Not that she'd have welcomed him at the compound; but her parents might have been a spoil-sport.

Krillin had died quite tragically from what she'd gathered from Piccolo's brief summary of the events she'd missed on Namek. Just after they all thought Goku had ended Frieza's existence with the help of his Spirit Bomb, Frieza had suddenly stood in front of them; and with an appetite for shock and pain at that. He'd fired a beam directed at Goku which Piccolo intercepted on the hero's behalf, and after that, he'd ended Krillin's life with a bang. Just like that. Bang. Over.

And Yamcha… well, she guessed he'd gone out with a bang too. But that seemed like a million years ago, and despite that he was still dead, she had actually _spoken_ with him since then. He had told her the news of Goku's defeat of Frieza and of his demise through a telepathic connection King Kai was apparently able to make. He had reprimanded her for telling Gohan and the others he'd died as if she were broadcasting the weather. And besides, he seemed to have loads of fun training with Tien and Chiaotzu. No misery there. Come to think of it; if he really loved her, he ought to get that King Kai-guy to play phone for him all the time so that he'd be able to talk to his girlfriend even beyond death. Now **that** would be romantic! But nooooooo, Mr. I-don't-think-about-those-things was having fun _training_! Well screw him; be dead then. It wasn't as if they had still been going out before he died anyway.

She pushed herself up with her hands and sat up, cross-legged, in front of her nightstand. She took her black alarm-clock in hands and set it two hours earlier than she originally had; it would now wake her 5 a.m. sharp.

What was the point of waiting until seven when she was too distracted to get a good night's sleep anyway? Her dad had said he'd finished plans of various things they could create with the technology they'd gathered from the scouter. And it would be far more productive and far more satisfying to work on those things than to just get a half-satisfying sleep in.

Looking at her clock still saying it was 1 a.m., she lay down again. 'C'mon Bulma, just 4 more hours to try and get some rest… you can do that,' the genius rooted herself on as she closed her eyes. 'Just think of green skies and blue grass and you'll be out in no-time.'

___________________________________________________________________________

Mr. and Mrs. Briefs were in the kitchen. They had gone to bed at half past seven in the evening, the man with the pale, lavender hair color that had earned him the name 'lavender mist' in high school following his wife reluctantly as he was still looking over his blueprints as they walked.

And while they both had been sound asleep in seconds, the bubbly woman with the light golden blond hair had suddenly sat right up at 12 a.m., exclaiming something along the lines of 'time for a midnight-snack' and she'd taken her husband who'd barely realized what was happening downstairs. He'd still had the mental focus to grab his blueprints along, because somehow he _had_ to read them over whenever he was awake. Bunny however hadn't agreed with this; she'd snatched them out of his hands and put the papers on one of the top stairs before proceeding to drag her husband into the kitchen.

This all was now forgiven and forgotten, however, as Mr. Briefs was licking his fingers after just having finished a piece of chocolate-cake.

"This was wonderful honey; I'd wake up for this any time."

"Well I'm glad to hear that sweetie. I was just walking in the store yesterday when I saw this wonderful chocolate-cake and I thought to myself; 'well my pumpkin is really going to like this.' So I put it in my secret cupboard where Bulma and Vegeta don't look; otherwise it would have gone by now," she recapped her story giggling.

"Well I'm glad you did; wouldn't have missed this for the world," her husband replied, stretching and yawning. "I think I'm about ready for a couple of hours of sleep again."

She giggled, took him by the arm and walked them to their bedroom again. The blueprints were left behind on the stairs; forgotten. Ah, the power of chocolate…

___________________________________________________________________________

The red, seemingly pupil-less eyes were boring into his again. Ribbed, rough skin of a disgusting pink coated the sides of the lizard's face, the first half of his menacing tail and his arms and legs. A purple, shiny shell formed the top of his head surrounded by a natural cuirass of white from which black horns and square, white ears protruded. An armor of white, gold and purple protected his shins, forearms and torso. The rest of his body, beside the second half of his tail, was smooth and held a strange faded lavender coloring.

Lips of royal purple were smiling. The lizard stretched his right hand out to the kneeling child in front of him, placing it in the flame-like explosion of black hair and stroking it in an almost gentle fashion. The child trembled and growled, which only seemed to urge the lizard on.

"So, Vegeta… what a treat to be given a present like you."

The child sent him a death-glare.

"I'm a prince! The prince of all Saiyans. And I promise; when I'm crowned, you'll crumble beneath my feet…" The child obviously tried to imply danger with every syllable he uttered, but the lizard merely laughed and took another sip of his wine; deadly amused.

"Being a prince doesn't mean much on my space-ship, boy. And it's not something you should be proud of. Who wants to be a prince of monkeys? Why do monkeys even need a prince? Nothing refined or aristocratic about monkeys, Vegeta…" Frieza said snickering in his raspy, grandmother-like voice. "After all," he continued, collecting himself, "Being refined would imply some form of intelligence; something your race doesn't have."

Vegeta spat. "I'm smarter than you are, 'lord of lizards'."

And the deep purple end of a tail smacked the boy across his face. Blood trickled from underneath the bangs of hair that covered his forehead, trickling below his cheek.

Frieza smiled at the five-year-old. "Well you have a smart mouth, for sure. But that doesn't prove you're smart. I'll tell you what. We can play a little game to prove your intelligence. And we have this whole grand space-ship as a playground at that, doesn't that sound nice, hm?" The child eyed him with suspicion and Frieza continued airily. "I'll be the cat, and you'll be the mouse. You can find a place to hide in this space-ship, and if I can't find you; then you must be a smart boy being able to hide from me." The lizard snickered at the prospect; he wouldn't have to do any work with cameras in every corner of his ship.

When the prince didn't move from his spot, the lizard smacked him with his tail again before the boy could even see it coming. "Get moving."

But despite his blood-stained face, Vegeta was in no rush. Eyeing the creature behind him suspiciously all the way, he walked out of the room and started scanning the hallway.

The child walked leisurely around the circular hallway where the walls, floor and ceiling were all steel plates. Several creatures who wore armor similar to his but had a great diversity of skin-color, from green to red to blue, stared at him as he passed them. It was the blood covering his features and trickling on his armor that did it.

"What are you looking at?" the boy demanded, bratty and gruff.

Several of the creatures seemed to scare at that. A purple one bowed before him.

"Our apologies young prince; we were being very rude."

"Feh. Thought so," came the curt reply, and Vegeta strode past him hastily. Despite his age, the boy's power already seemed beyond that of these creatures. And his authority with them held a vast difference in comparison with his authority with Frieza.

The image of the boy searching for a sufficient place to hide faded into the same boy: chucked on the floor, armor shattered, cloak in tatters, two of his left ribs and one of his right actually protruding his skin, broken; he lay choking in a pool of his own blood.

The lizard held his right foot with its three toes on the boy's chest, laughing.

"Meow."

And the monster burst into a hysteric laughing-fit again.

The adult Vegeta, who had been the observer in his dream so far, attacked his old self's predator head-on.

"Enough! Enough with the humiliations. You're mine, Frieza!"

But the lizard merely laughed, suddenly changing into his final form; a slender creature of white and purple; no horns.

"Funny, I was under the impression **you** were **mine** Vegeta. It's interesting how misunderstandings come into the world when you don't communicate well, isn't it, sweet prince? But… I'm inclined to think you ought to be a, ah, what did you call it again? A _super_ saiyan if you ever wanted to have a chance against me."

Eyes closed, the lizard snickered. Bursting with anger, Vegeta came at him again.

"I **am** a super saiyan!"

But before he could reach Frieza, Kakarot suddenly stood before him, looking amused.

"Is that so?"

Kakarot was smiling, a golden air surrounding him, and his teal, seemingly pupil-less eyes were boring into his; instigating.

Then Nappa, still with hair, came into the picture, picking his old self from the floor.

"It was nothing but a legend Vegeta. Your father betrayed you. He gave you to Frieza, knowing he gave you to hell without hope of escape. That's all there is to it."

And Nappa left, the unconscious child slammed over his shoulder.

Vegeta, confused, turned to Kakarot who had clearly achieved the legend, who'd clearly proven it was possible… But Kakarot had gone and instead, the lizard was staring at him again, saying the same words he'd said on Namek before he killed him.

"I don't know why, but I still care for you enough to put you out of your misery."

And the prince started shaking uncontrollably. Not again… Not again…

___________________________________________________________________________

Bulma hit her clock harshly when it beeped her into the waking world. What had she gotten into her head with the whole 'waking up at 5'-thing? She'd spent the last hours in the craziest of crazy dreams; she had been on Namek with Gohan and Dende, and they had been pirates trying to take back the ship Commodore Frieza and Captain Zarbon had stolen from them.

As she'd never seen Frieza but only heard stories, she imagined him to be some kind of turtle with a lilac skin-color, a very long tail and with purple shell, nails and lips.

They'd chased their ship for hours on a decapsulized cruiser she'd carried with her to make sure and in the end; they'd ended up watching The Ginyu Force juggle around with dragonballs on one of the planet's lochs _together_ with Frieza and Zarbon.

She'd never seen the members of Frieza's infamous Ginyu Force either, but in her dream they had come out as attractive yet gay male cheerleaders with very bizarre skin-coloring.

The blue-eyed heiress sighed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. 'I shouldn't want to wish myself into _bizarro-world_ again. I swear to Kami, my dreams keep getting weirder and weirder. All of these adventures must be feeding on my sanity,' she muttered to herself.

Yawning, she quickly put on some clothes and proceeded to walking downstairs. No need for a shower or better-looking clothes while she was heading to work on the new scouter-related projects her father had come up with; that would come later.

When she passed the door to Vegeta's bedroom, she stopped for a minute. Was he talking to someone? She leaned against the door as quietly as possible, trying to listen in.

"No more… No more… I'll ascend… You can't scathe me… You won't…"

Shocked, she stepped back from the door. He was having a nightmare. That arrogant, bossy man that thought himself so much better than anyone else, that life-threatening saiyan that had once come to earth, that confusing man who seemed to love destruction… sounded weak.

And she couldn't help but feel her heart constrict with pain at the sound of his voice. He was hurting. And it suddenly struck her how little she actually knew of the man she'd invited so casually into her home. She had never really thought about it before…

Sighing, she continued her walk to the stairs. It wasn't as if she could do anything…

Then, a yelp. Bulma landed on the floor below the stairs with a smack, her head and back taking the most of the blow. Blueprints were flying everywhere. Apparently she hadn't noticed them and had slipped on the pile of paper that was left behind on one of the top stairs.

But her yelp of pain had awoken everyone in the Capsule Corp residence; none excluded.

___________________________________________________________________________

Bulma lay on the couch, a white cloth on her forehead. The Briefs' family doctor had come to see her an hour ago and had diagnosed a concussion together with some bruises resulting from her fall. At least a week of bed-rest was in order.

Unbeknownst to the Capsule Corp heiress, young Dende had spent hours discussing with himself if it would be ethical to use his powers to heal her. After all, if it hadn't been for her, the Nameks wouldn't have a place to stay. But the laws of their people encouraged natural healing. Their powers were used only in times of war. So after a long internal struggle, the child had decided against it. Facing this new moral dilemma had driven him to take on the responsibility of caring for the crestfallen human though; wearing an apron Mrs. Briefs had manufactured for him the young boy kept bringing water and dabbing her forehead.

Mrs. Briefs had placed the coffee-table near her sleeping daughter's head and had put the most flattering picture she owned of the scar-faced warrior that had once been her daughter's boyfriend on top of it; thinking to console. A goofy yet goodhearted grin complimented the features of the overconfident base-ball player, long wild black hair gave him an edge and the catlike-creature Puar reflected his pliable heart.

___________________________________________________________________________

Vegeta was sitting on the very top of the Capsule Corp building, his back against the outside-wall of one of the two circular rooms that somehow stuck out of the roof as if they were the ears of a living building.

The image of a living building seemed very realistic to Vegeta at this particular time, though; the buzzing of distraught energies below him was driving him crazy, and he just couldn't manage to drown the continuous crawling around the compound of the various creatures inhabiting the building out. He felt like he was sitting on a pile of ants, but still felt too restless to leave the only place on this planet that was familiar to him. So instead, he closed his eyes and kept trying to focus on nothing but the movement of his own ki.

What had happened anyway?

This past week had been calm. Too calm. Vegeta'd gone out to train in a mountain-area every morning after having eaten breakfast at seven with the Briefs, and returned around 3 p.m. every day. The rest of the day, he never managed to get himself to do much.

The stumped, helpless feeling that had started crushing him when he first got to earth had caught up with him again. The frustration that had bottled up inside him ruled his thoughts until the sun set every day.

Why had Kakarot, a low-class saiyan, achieved the legendary status of super saiyan where he, the prince of all saiyans, had not? Why hadn't the vengeance been his? He was the one who'd spent his life in oppression; he was the one who'd watched his race reduced to shreds. Yet he had nothing; he'd even died at the hands of his oppressor. Just like the other saiyans who had been too weak to stand up to Frieza. Who he had been supposed to save. Who hadn't proven themselves worth it in the end…

Instead of summoning him to train even harder, the frustration always froze him. Then the nightmares came which he worked off in the mornings. And then the cycle had just started again, dragging the worn-out prince through the week.

Somehow the feeling of helplessness had loosened his grip before. Those humans had distracted him with their odd habits and mannerisms, and he'd found a challenge in getting under the skin of that blue-haired woman. She thought she was so brilliant and her ego was so bloated that it made it incredibly amusing to point out the flaws in her thinking and either see her get angry and lose control of herself or avoid her retorts.

But for the past week, the woman had either avoided him, or just been busy. And without the entertainment to keep him sharp, he'd fallen back into his own darkness again.

He'd awoken with a start when he'd heard the shriek piercing through his nightmare this morning. The woman had lain in a heap beneath the stairs; moaning. He'd grunted in disgust at the fragility of her human body. With all the spirit she owned, it still only took a simple fall from the stairs to leave her bedridden.

He'd stood there watching from the top of the stairs for thirty seconds when that crazy mother of hers burst past him in a yellow robe and slippers. He'd just watched, unmoving. Even when her scientist father had burst past him and when they'd carried their daughter to the infirmary; he'd just stood there. He'd been completely clueless as to what he was supposed to do.

When he'd finally went downstairs and into the kitchen, the blond woman had come to him with a worried look on her face, commenting on how he looked pale and "must have gotten quite a scare seeing Bulma lying there like that." Insolent woman! As if that was something that would _scare_ him. He was just… he didn't even know. She'd given him some bread to "get some color back on his cheeks" and he'd accepted without a word. He'd gone to the Capsule Corp roof after that and had just sat there ever since.

___________________________________________________________________________

Sky blue eyes opened carefully, only slowly adjusting to their surroundings. The beautiful and intelligent heiress of the world's most famous company had been felled; her head was pounding unendurably.

"If that priest that slaughtered everyone that entered his church last Sunday had this kind of a headache I think I just might sympathize; this pain's enough to provoke a saint," Bulma informed her mother who had been leaning over her, remembering the news broadcast she'd watched the night before.

Her father, who was sitting near them in a sofa, looked up quite shocked at his daughter's first statement since she'd been resting. "Eh, isn't that a little inappropriate honey?"

"Come off it dad; I'm just saying this hurts like hell."

She swore; if this headache hadn't been holding her back she might have attacked her father for his naïveté. That man could be past bearing sometimes!

She turned her head to look around the room and was pleasantly surprised to see the young Namekian child known as Dende standing in front of her, holding a glass of water in hand.

"Would you like some water now, ma'am?"

Her mood swung around as fast as the weather can decide on a ray of sun after a seemingly endless storm, and she smiled at the boy.

"My name's Bulma, Dende, feel free to call me that. There's no need for all the super-polite formalities; just consider me a friend, okay? But yeah, I guess some water would be nice."

The boy smiled and handed her the glass of water, decided on a quick bow and left, but then changed his mind as he realized he'd probably been too polite again, and he didn't want her to feel like he didn't like her or appreciate her. "Hope you enjoy your drink and that you feel better soon, Bulma," he said, smiling up at her. And the child left as fast as he'd come.

___________________________________________________________________________

A chirping 'cuckoo' echoed ten times when Vegeta walked into the kitchen. He swore that clock was harmful to his eardrums!

But most of the ki-levels on the compound seemed to have calmed down by now, or maybe it had been his own that had calmed down. However it was; he'd deemed it safe enough again to enter the building. He sensed Bulma and her parents in the living room. Her ki was somewhat disturbed but seemed lively enough again and her parents' ki seemed calm now; having that sense of lacking awareness it usually had.

Having taken an already prepared sandwich with roast-chicken out of the refrigerator he walked into the living room just as Dr. Briefs stood up from his sofa, stretching.

"I'll just go ahead and work on the projects of which you strew the blueprints across the floor, if you want you can always catch up on the projects when you get well."

Bulma didn't respond as her father left for his basement, feeling slightly side-stepped at the least.

"Is there anything else you need honey?" Bunny chirped up, holding her hands near her face, folded, and smiling expectantly.

Ignoring the scene, Vegeta walked to the sofa in front of Bulma's couch that had been empty when her father had still been in the room with his wife and daughter and sat down, taking slow bites from his sandwich. He was wearing the same battle outfit as ever; he hadn't taken his saiyan wear off once since he got to earth. He'd taken off his boots and removed his gloves and even the protective yet torn chest-plate, but only because he'd left them in his room when he'd come out of bed so suddenly that morning. The holes Frieza had created in both his armor as the midnight-blue fabric beneath it were still there, and, wearing nothing but the dark blue fabric, there was even more emphasis on his open abdomen than usual.

Pulling his knees up to his face, he put his legs and feet to rest on the armchair. Half laying back on the armrest, the prince vanished in the cushions.

With lines of exhaustion beneath his eyes and a paining emptiness in his features, he seemed all the darker. Anyone who didn't know better would see a man, lazily slouched down in his chair, eating casually without a care in the world.

But whatever world his mind traveled to as he sat there made him unaware of Mrs. Briefs leaving her daughter to herself, passing an admiring and appreciative look at Vegeta as she passed by that had nothing to do with a deluded idea of him sitting there to keep watch over her daughter like she might usually have had, and unaware of Bulma eyeing him in surprise after she noticed him for the first time, having dismissed the company of her mother.

After a couple of moments Bulma decided to dismiss the fact that Vegeta was around and closed her eyes again. Her head was still pounding harshly and the world started to become more than a little blurry when she kept her eyes open too long.

They sat in silence for a long time; the digital clock on the wall of the living room already indicating it was 10:20 a.m. Vegeta had long since finished his sandwich, but never left his position in the chair. Even though he kept his eyes open and even hardly blinked, he still seemed to be resting alongside with the female human.

It was around this time, however, that the self-conscious scientist awoke from her half-sleep again, thirsty. And the fact was that her glass of water had been put back on the wrong end of the coffee-table by her impractical mother; she couldn't reach it without getting up. And so far, her head hadn't allowed her to do so. She'd even fainted the first time she tried.

"Hey Vegeta," she tried, waiting for a sign of recognition first.

The man started looking in her direction.

"Could you pass me that glass of water, please?"

Vegeta looked at her, disconcerted.

"And what makes you believe I would do that?"

Bulma smiled sweetly.

"Because I can't reach it; see, my mom put it too far away. I'm going to faint or hurl when I try to get up to fetch it and believe you me; you're not going to want that."

Vegeta grunted and stood up.

"It's not your mom's fault that you're weak," he mumbled as he gave her the glass.

Bulma just giggled and started drinking.

"Thanks a lot Vegeta."

"Whatever."

The prince passed a glance at the coffee-table and noticed a picture of a man he was sure he'd seen before. Yes, he had definitely seen him before. Wait a second, he knew!

"Isn't that that weakling who couldn't even take on a Saibaman?" he asked Bulma, referring to Yamcha's photograph.

It took Bulma a moment before she realized what the hell Vegeta had suddenly started talking about. But, remembering what she'd seen broadcasted on television at Master Roshi's less than a year ago from her friends' battle with the saiyans, she realized he was talking about the disgusting green creatures he and his saiyan-buddy had somehow _planted_ in the ground to fight for them. And he was talking about how all of the Z-fighters had managed against these creatures except for Yamcha, her on-again off-again boyfriend for decades (although it technically had been an off-case when he'd gone into that battle). He was talking about her boyfriend's untimely death casually and disdainful, making it seem like it had been his own fault for being too weak! How **dare** he! What kind of monster had she invited into her home?

"Excuse me? That is a more honorable man than you'll ever be! He's not a weakling and his name's Yamcha, for your information. And you had no right, **no right**, to do to him what you did. To let that Saibaman-creature or whatever you call it take his life like that!"

Emotions running high, Bulma had suddenly managed to sit up without repercussions. Tears had started welling up in her eyes and she looked at Vegeta with a renewed intensity and with a look of disgust and disapproval she had never looked at him with before.

Vegeta did nothing but cock his eyebrow.

"So you _can_ get up without fainting or hurling?"

Cheeks flushing and tears now streaming down her face, Bulma started yelling.

"You had no right to take him away from me like that! We were supposed to be together for the rest of our lives!"

The saiyan prince looked at her searchingly.

"So he was your mate? But there's no reason to be all upset, woman, is there? Aren't you going to wish him and those other earthlings back along with Kakarot when the Namekian dragonballs regenerate? I thought that was what you went to Namek for in the first place, and it definitely is why you put up with those little green beans now."

Vegeta didn't react in the way Bulma had expected him to and her emotions had gone haywire all of a sudden. She'd locked them away ever since the saiyans had arrived on earth; there was just too much that had happened since then. It was just too much to oversee and to comprehend. Just too much…

Not knowing what to do with the emotions suddenly raging inside her, Bulma started punching on Vegeta's steel-plate chest, tears still flowing from her eyes freely. Vegeta just watched her as she went berserk, these same empty eyes with a faint hint of worry and discomfort. "You jerk… jerk… jerk!" The fight left her and she burst out sobbing. And the husky man just stood there, next to the coffee-table, once again completely clueless about what it was that he should do. Bulma's concussion caught up with her though, and she started trembling uncontrollably.

Even with her eyes open she could no longer see anything but a world with fading contours, and as she heard footsteps distancing themselves from her she assumed Vegeta had left. She was about to give in to more helpless tears when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

The world, although viewed through a veil of tears, became visible again, and the pain subsided somewhat as warmth flooded through her. She felt energized and clear again and, surprised, she turned around to see Vegeta standing behind the couch. He removed his hand from her shoulder and walked away. After a view moments of sitting on the couch alone, the blue-haired heiress finally realized what happened. He'd given her some of his ki…

___________________________________________________________________________

The cuckoo-clock Mrs. Briefs loved so much let the kitchen know it was half past 10 a.m. as the saiyan prince raced past it, and continued to his guest bedroom at Capsule Corp. This whole week had led to nothing but trouble, and the change in routine today had only made matters worse. What the hell had happened?

But despite the lack of training this morning, Vegeta was exhausted both in mind and body and pretty much seemed at his wits' end.

"He's just a corpse and he's still blabbing… I'll have to gag him to shut him up."

Frieza's voice echoed in his mind and he fell on his bed, surrendering himself to the nightmare with just one last thought.

'I should have died.'


	5. Repercussions

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

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Chapter 5: Repercussions

Images of his past haunted Vegeta through his nightmares until he awoke tangled in his sheets, somewhere in the afternoon. Rubbing the cold sweat from his brow, the saiyan prince got out of bed and started pulling on his boots, gloves and armor over the navy-blue suit that covered his body. The hole in front of his heart gave him a harsh reminder of the vulnerability he'd suffered just two weeks ago at the whim of his former lord, Frieza, but he pushed himself past it and exited his room through the window as he headed toward a desolate area to train.

After having the events from this morning inconvenience the daily routine he'd settled for the past week, the prince wasn't planning on returning for at least a couple of days. He needed his space away from those humans. He had no use for the volatile emotions that ruled these creatures, no use for their brittle physiques, no use for their strange ideas and customs and no use for their waiting on him accompanied by a butting into his life that he deemed vulgar.

Several pine- and deciduous trees started swaying back and forth as the determined man came flying over, waters started wrinkling without the assistance of a single touch and a pterodactyl came spiraling out of a mountain cave as Vegeta'd taken the liberty to simply fly through the damned thing; robbing the animal of its sheltering roof.

He didn't stop until he could no longer sense ki high enough to represent human life in a radius of 750 miles from where he was. There he stopped and shot to the earth like an arrow; swiftly, smooth… and deadly.

He took his time, scanning the area where he was at and where he planned to stay for now, gathering his own food and hunting down his own meat. The air was damp here and the vegetation very closed. Vines were everywhere. But it was desolate, completely forsaken land, and that was just what Vegeta had been looking for. And besides that; it didn't resemble what he'd seen of the earth so far. And Vegeta was definitely looking for the sensation of not being stuck on the lump of a planet these weaklings called earth.

He built his ki and the vegetation faded in a circle around him as if it was the simplest thing in the world. To the untrained eye, it would have to be some kind of magic that allowed the man to reduce part of the jungle around him to less than ashes like that, creating an open space for him to train in. To any one of the Z-fighters, however, the spiking ki that had flamed across the flora and fauna would have been an impressive yet obvious sight.

Vegeta was pleased with how he'd refined his ki-sense since the earthlings had inadvertently taught him in the ability; he was able to sense the substantially low life-forces of humans, he could pinpoint their exact locations, and he could even sense life-forces of the various animals on this world, even though he could easily consider their ki microscopic.

Whenever he set his mind to it, he could feel how the ki flowed naturally through every living being and how even the earth's ecosystem held energy that kept itself in balance.

It was a most bizarre sensation; he could even feel the energies of the jungle he'd just destroyed being pulled back into the jungle that was still present and change its course.

What pleased him the most about all this, though, was that it helped him avoid these pests that called themselves 'humans'. Even in the most desolate desert regions, there would always be at least one of these rodents with a camel or something. It was infuriating.

Now he felt himself able to scan an area far more accurately than a scouter had ever been able to do. And more importantly; he could revel in his own power more astutely than he'd ever been able to do before. Before, he _knew_ he was powerful, he knew how to trigger his ki and how to raise it to levels unknown to so many creatures he'd faced, he knew how to bring it out in ki-blasts and how to control it outside of his body; and it had felt great.

But what he'd never felt before was how his ki circulated in every fiber of his body and this new awareness gave him a sense of strength and greatness he hadn't achieved before. It also gave him a sense of rest; of having achieved something that his body had known before his mind had caught up, of something he'd always ought to have had… And the sensation always pushed the nightmares, still so vivid on his retina, back into the depths of his mind.

The place where he was at right now was no good though. He needed to hit _against_ some things, and all he could hit in the open space he'd created was the ground below him. And that wouldn't do.

Using his ki as a razor to cut himself a free passageway into the jungle, Vegeta left the open space he'd created. And after a long walk he finally reached something similar to what he'd been looking for in this human-forsaken place; a waterfall cascading from vast, steep stone.

A smile tugged on the saiyan's lips as he went into the water. Time for action.

___________________________________________________________________________

Bulma sat up carefully as the painkiller she'd taken an hour ago finally started kicking in, relieving her of the worst of her headache and nausea. She felt kind of lonesome and was already starting to regret giving her mother the green light to go shopping because 'all she did was sleep anyway and she felt fine'. Why did she always push everyone away when she needed them? Was there really that much reason to be 'tough'?

Sighing, she grabbed a fashion magazine from the coffee-table and decided to just try and focus on its contents.

But as she leafed through the various columns and articles, it didn't take her long to decide that nothing along the lines of "dress like a celeb", "are Rachel and Drew having an extramarital baby?" or "be ready for Fall with these fine dresses" could pique her interest.

And her father was busy; working on his projects by himself in his basement, while they'd agreed to work on them _together_. But after falling from the stairs because of the blueprints **he**'d left lying around he'd went to work, oblivious as ever of his environment's antics.

The Nameks were nowhere around either, they were just too damned polite to "bother" her and spent all time in the courtyard they'd adopted as their own. All she needed about now was just some friggin' company!

Looking at the digital clock in the room, she noticed it was nearing four o'clock in the afternoon. Wasn't Vegeta supposed be hanging somewhere around Capsule Corp about now? He'd spent the entire morning training, right? God; to think that she was even craving for _his_ company!

Supported by the painkiller that had started doing its work better than she'd expected it to, she stood up and started looking for him.

First, she went to the kitchen, then she passed a glance into the garden, but not seeing him there she decided to check his room first. It didn't take her long to uncover the room vacated and the window open. The sheets were in a heap though; looking as if they'd recently been slept in. Usually they were very neat whenever she stepped foot in his room. Frowning, she went outside to check if he perhaps was inside or near the spaceship again, but as she didn't find him there either, she turned to look in the courtyard. He could be sitting against some tree there again; although truth be told, she hadn't caught him doing so since her "tree-hugging"-comment. She snickered at the memory. To think she had that much influence on that man was just laughable! But as she'd come to expect; Vegeta was nowhere in the courtyard either.

The place was filled with Nameks though; kids running around and laughing and some of them competing in a shuffleboard-tournament a couple of adults had organized, others playing cards and golf…

She supposed she could try and join them there; they were sure to welcome her and maybe it would be fun to play some cards or shuffleboard with them. The golf Mori and some other older Nameks liked to play was just not her thing. As long as the painkiller did its work…

___________________________________________________________________________

With a feline, predator grace Vegeta swam underwater through the deep pool, its currents disturbed and in turmoil because of the vast amounts of water that cascaded into it from the obsidian rock coated by slime and fungi.

He seemed the only calm and at ease creature in the violent pool and he swam directly towards the foam that was the waterfall and that was the place all fish stayed clear of. There, a white energy started surrounding him, forcing all water in his vicinity backwards, and he shot upwards, _through_ the water that had enough force to crush a human being and into the sky.

Floating, he started throwing yellow blasts at the water until the pressure he pushed forward made the cascading water seem as if it was a solid substance that had just been torn in two. Before the water recovered, Vegeta flew through the gap he'd created and moved ahead, throwing kicks and punches that made the rock shudder.

If only he implied enough force, it would be child's play for the prince to reduce the rock to rubble in seconds; but then he would have nothing to practice on and that was not the way he wanted it. Of course, small craters did appear on the surface of the rock. But that was unavoidable if he actually wanted to work off his frustration and actually wanted to train. He had the power to blow up worlds; entire civilizations could be gone with just a wave of his hand, and planets could be gone from the face of the universe in minutes' work. The only memory of their past existence would be found on the starry skies of other planets, which saw their past projected as if it was present because of the distance of light-years away.

A sigh escaped from the lost prince at that. He had been sixteen when he'd last seen the sky of an alien planet project his home planet as if it had still existed…

His eye twitching, the elite warrior decided to leave his training be for a while. He moved upwards and through the water that poured down from the rock again. For just a couple of seconds, his hair was pushed down his back by the pressure.

His hair upright again, he floated above the waterfall and noticed a stone plateau on the black rock. Alongside the river there were various ruins of some sort, with totems engraved with strange markings and remnants of temple-like buildings. All were formed out of the same, black granite.

Deciding to scout the ruins, Vegeta walked on. He was quick to notice that a lot of the buildings were still whole enough to be of shelter, even with the vines and mosses that had seemed to crawl their way around them. This would be a decent place to spend the night…

___________________________________________________________________________

"There," Bulma said happily, laying her queen of hearts-card on top of the pile and stretching lazily. It had been her last card and as she'd managed to get it on the pile; she had just won her sixth game in a row. Crazy Eights was definitely her card-game!

"You're amazing, Bulma," a young Namekian man said in admiration.

Capsule Corp's heiress just smiled. "I know, I know." And she giggled again. All Nameks were smiling up at her being so happy, albeit they probably didn't realize there was no need whatsoever to blow their hostess's horn like that. And perhaps they just knew she loved to win and were using their telepathic powers to make sure she did; who knew?

"This hour of playing cards has worn me out though. You guys just continue if you feel like it, okay? I'm going to lay down for awhile until my mom comes back and dinner will be on."

And Bulma left the table for her couch again. The painkiller was still working, but after getting ahead of herself, laughing quite loudly and concentrating on all the little marks that made a card heart, clover, diamond or spade; her head had started throbbing again.

She lay down, snuggling underneath the light-blue blanket until she lay down comfortably and resting her head on her feather-pillow. It couldn't be long until her mom returned from her shopping spree and she would probably start making dinner immediately; which meant she would wake to the smell of food… a prospect she was most definitely looking forward to.

And a certain saiyan prince would be present again too. Which wouldn't be healthy for her hurting head, but it would at least be some interesting company that kept the dangers of boredom at bay. And if her head would feel a bit better by then after resting she just might be able to drag out of him where he'd been all this time. Smiling, she drifted off to sleep…

___________________________________________________________________________

Vegeta was lying down between the totem-poles, staring up at the sky. It had started to become a bit drizzly and misty, but it didn't bother the saiyan prince much as he looked at the clouds forming and losing shape again.

He was thinking about the whole 'ability to destroy worlds'-thing, wondering if Kakarot's brat Gohan would even realize **he** was capable of it too; he _could_ destroy his beloved earth if he wanted to. Although, come to think of it, the brat only seemed able to summon such vast amounts of power when his emotions started ruling him because his friends were endangered.

But what about the Namek? He was capable of it, too. Very much so indeed. And he had no necessity for any kind of trigger before he could summon the power necessary.

But from the tidbits of information he'd gathered on the murky past of the Namek; he'd always wanted to _rule_ a planet, not destroy one. Vegeta snickered. What would be the point of ruling over a population on any kind of stupid planet?

Realizing he had been meant to rule over the saiyan population on his home-planet when he would have been crowned king, Vegeta whitened; he immediately resumed his training, more fierce than before, to rule out the implications this thought left him with.

___________________________________________________________________________

The fumes of marinated pork awoke a now well-rested Bulma. Sitting up carefully she took another painkiller first; it had been almost four hours since she took the last one and the doctor had permitted her to take one every four to six hours. If she just took another one before going to bed later that night she considered herself all set for today.

Following the smell of great food, Bulma walked into the kitchen and sat herself down at the already set table. Bunny turned around from her pots and pans to her daughter.

"Oh hi honey, did you get your rest in, are you feeling any better?"

"Yeah thanks mom, I feel a lot better than I did this morning. How was shopping?"

"Why I bought the cutest outfit; a trouser-suit with a great vest and all in very uplifting colors, and I even found this cutest store which sold clothes for dinosaur-pets! So my darlings will look good this summer. Oh, and I bought a dress for you I think you'll like sweetie; it's blue so it matches your hair and eyes and it's _very_ sparkly!" she said winking.

Bulma beamed up at her. She didn't wear dresses often, but she knew her mom had taste for them and that they would be perfect for the right occasions. "Wow, thanks mom!"

"Don't mention it, honey," Bunny said smiling as she started bringing steaming pots and pans to the table. She walked out of the kitchen toward the basement-door, screaming "Dinner's ready" into the lab.

"Isn't Vegeta around?" the blue-haired scientist asked when both her parents were sitting at the table and her father had already dug in.

"Well I asked a couple of these handsome Nameks before I started on dinner because I'd made some tea and I thought they'd like some, but they keep persisting all they drink is water, which is a shame really; it was that new peach-taste the stores have recently come out with. But anyway, I asked them were that wonderful man was at and they said they 'sensed' him somewhere really far away and then another tall one in this smoldering voice said he probably didn't want to be disturbed. Funny that they _sense_ him, don't you think? It's probably something to do with these antennae. But I hope Vegeta will be okay and get a nice meal wherever he is… but if he wants to be left alone we should leave him don't you think so honey?" Mrs. Briefs questioned her daughter, a sweet smile plastered on her face.

"Ugh… if he wants to pout somewhere and miss his meal that's not my problem. Let's just eat."

And Bulma started cutting her meat with a huff while her mom smiled and her dad looked oblivious.

___________________________________________________________________________

Having finished half a T-rex for dinner, Vegeta trained in midair, his ki flaming around him, until there was no trace of sunlight left in the sky. The ruins were shrouded in a deep fog, as was the rest of the jungle, but the prince chose to ignore the humid mist and lay down in one of the temples that had once been used to worship the sun.

To a lot of humans, the ruins would seem an eerie place. Some might even feel it was haunted by long forgotten spirits from ancient times.

Vegeta, however, was not sensitive to these sensations. He'd seen more cultures than any earthling could possibly fathom, and he'd been responsible for the annihilation of many as an underling of Frieza. He knew how even the most mystic of cultures commenced and how all had roots in the natural development of consciousness and awareness. He was not afraid, as he knew there was no reason to be. And besides that; his senses were rare to shut down completely. He was always alert, always in expectance of danger. He'd learned to be so the day Frieza's space-ship had become his home. His prison…

___________________________________________________________________________

Bulma was continuously turning around underneath her sheets, not being able to find a comfortable position. She had just memorized the, well, let's call it 'incident' she'd had that morning with Vegeta. With his ki soothing her mind, she'd gone to sleep and she had actually not thought about it at all ever since she woke up thereafter. It wasn't that she'd really forgotten it; it just hadn't crossed her mind.

And now, she was turning in her bed, wondering what she ought to think about it. Because it was quite obvious to her by now that she was the one who'd driven Vegeta away.

It was just that she wasn't quite sure about how she was _supposed_ to be feeling. Wasn't she supposed to feel angry because of how he'd been talking about Yamcha? Wasn't she supposed to hate him and wish him to his grave because he'd been responsible for his death in some way? Why wasn't she feeling any resentment whatsoever?!

Things had just changed so drastically since Namek… Vegeta suddenly being their ally; a pawn of that horrible monster Goku had defeated. A pawn that had been or become just as horrible, sure, but there was more to him… Much more.

She still felt as if someone was squeezing her heart without relent when she thought back to the poor, innocent Namekian villagers the saiyan prince had thoughtlessly and heartlessly slain when he'd been dragonball-hunting. But when she set her eyes on him, he just didn't seem… _evil_.

From Piccolo's summary of what had happened on Namek she'd heard the cold-hearted saiyan hadn't been so cold-hearted before he died. He'd said he cried and told Goku a lot of things about what Frieza had done with the saiyans and so many others.

And after the initial shock of seeing Vegeta wished back and transported to earth just like all the Nameks had been, she hadn't doubted he'd changed after his death. Something about him had been substantially different. And from that point forward, she'd known and felt in all her being that Son Goku had done the right thing that day, when he let the prince go.

She smiled, wondering what Vegeta would think if he'd come to know he was alive now because the wording of the wish that had revived the majority of the Nameks along with him. The wish that had asked Kami's dragon to bring all victims of Frieza back to life. A victim… she was sure he would not appreciate that.

And she _knew_ Goku had been hoping his wish would work out this way. Like a little kid, all he could think of was fighting with a true match like Vegeta again. And maybe he had found an appreciation for his ancestors through meeting the haughty saiyan, and uncovered a brotherly similarity in their love of fighting he had never encountered on earth before.

But still, this posed a problem… she wasn't supposed to think about Vegeta this way, and she was sure Yamcha would never forgive her for going along with this train of thought.

The problem was that in all her rationality, she feared he would be right…

Even if it was in Frieza's name, Vegeta had inflicted misery and pain upon the universe. And she was sure Yamcha would consider his death and that of his friends a personal harm.

Her spirits falling quickly, she turned again. She could not force her gut-feeling that Vegeta was okay back, not even if millions of people he'd killed came to haunt her, and not even if he stormed into her room right now, threatening to take her life.

And Yamcha would not be able to do so either. This was a matter of female intuition… and maybe just a matter of intuition, because Goku knew this too, just _knew_; she was sure of it.

Just like he had somehow known that the reborn Piccolo was different from the Demon King that had threatened the earth. They'd all thought him crazy and even now Piccolo still scared her, more so than Vegeta ever had; but he'd been right. He'd turned out to be one of their strongest allies, and the things she saw Gohan do to him… were just beyond belief.

"…no reason to be all upset, woman, is there? Aren't you going to wish him and those other earthlings back along with Kakarot when the Namekian dragonballs regenerate? I thought that was what you went to Namek for in the first place…"

Remembering his words made the injured heiress smile. She had been too upset to notice back then, but it seemed he had actually been trying to reassure her. And giving her some of his ki said more than he'd ever be able to say in between his jabs and insults.

He was not evil, and she didn't care about what Yamcha would think. He'd get over his death or not; it was not her problem. Not because she didn't care for her long lost boyfriend, or didn't love him… but there were some things you just _knew_. Only Goku would understand.

___________________________________________________________________________

By the time the first rays of sun and some restless dinosaurs awoke Vegeta, he was soaked to the very bone. The mist in the cloud forest was intense and the small droplets of water it contained seemed to be making sure to attach to every fiber of clothing they could find.

Vegeta raised his ki to dry himself and supply his clammy body with some warmth, rubbing his temple as to expel the last lingering images of his dream.

He hadn't been dreaming anything remotely coherent; he'd relived past purges where he, Nappa and Radditz had eliminated all life on planets to ready it for sell, and the screaming was still ringing in his ears, he'd gone to his home-planet that had suddenly existed again, but hadn't been recognized as the crown prince by any of the other saiyans who'd been laughing in his face for his rants, and he'd had fun chasing Zarbon down and making him show his ugly true self to the Ginyu Force.

The various dreams had faded into each other and left the prince slightly exhausted and disorientated.

But he had better things to do. And after having the second half of the T-rex he'd killed the day before for breakfast, the saiyan prince went to work.

___________________________________________________________________________

It had already past lunch and Vegeta **still** wasn't around. And now, Bulma was just annoyed. Wasn't it impolite of a guest to leave his guesthouse like that, not bothering to inform them of where he would go and when he would be back?

Well, she wasn't going to sit around and wait for him to realize the food here was much better than anything he could concoct himself in the wilderness. And that stupid concussion and doctor's subscription of "rest" sure as hell wasn't going to stop her either!

So Bulma Briefs, proud heiress of Capsule Corporation that was not planning on being thwarted in _any_ way by _any_ alien, took more painkillers than she was allowed to, readied her jetcopter and went to the Nameks to ask for locations.

"Hey you guys, can any of you tell me where Vegeta's at? I know I can't get an exact location, but if I just could get some rough directions of where he's around I think I'll be able to find him," she started as she approached the courtyard. She knew she didn't have to walk up to any Namekian specifically to get an answer; all of them would have heard her.

"Bulma, you probably don't want to hear this; but I highly doubt Vegeta **wants** to be found. Just leave it."

That was Piccolo… typical.

"Why is it that you want to find him, Miss Bulma?"

That was the Namekians' new elder, Mori… better.

"Because I had an incident with him yesterday-morning and I think it's kinda my fault he left, so I thought I'd go and apologize."

"Oh, well in that case…" Mori started. Piccolo grunted, shook his head and left.

___________________________________________________________________________

Bulma waved her escort of three young Namekians goodbye as she hovered above the cloud forest where they sensed Vegeta's ki signal. After spending some time looking for the best place to land she saw a stone plateau that seemed fit for the job, and she descended.

"Whoah; eerie here," she exclaimed as she stepped out of the vehicle, capsulized it and saw the ruins.

She didn't see Vegeta anywhere around so she decided to just explore and see if the markings on the various buildings were from any culture or language she knew.

Was this place even mapped? If not so, she really ought to talk to her father about this. Even though they were mainly a technological company they thrived on other discoveries as well; and this could really be a thumbs-up for Capsule Corp if they could just get their hands on the right patents and archaeologists.

"Gahhh!!! Vegeta you scared the crap out of me, didn't you know that it's impolite to sneak up behind an unknowing beautiful innocent girl?!"

The saiyan prince just snickered as the blue-haired woman got up from the dirt he'd just pushed her in with the touch of a mere finger. Humans were funny.

"What are you doing out here anyway? Why aren't you at Capsule Corp?"

Vegeta grimaced. "What does it look like to you, woman? I'm training _in peace_, away from disturbing pests like you."

"Oh, so now I'm a disturbing pest, huh? Well look here mister, if you want to spend your time eating jungle-food instead of home-cooked meals you know you love and roll around in the dirt, that's not my problem. But I don't think you're just here to _train_ or because I disturb you so much. You've hardly seen me the past week. This is about yesterday morning."

She stated it as a fact, not as a question. Vegeta swallowed and looked away.

"So what if it is? What's it to you anyway? I can't listen to another second of you _whining_ about your ridiculous weakling boyfriend!"

Bulma cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah, I wanted to thank you about that."

Now Vegeta looked baffled. "......... Thank me?"

"Yeah," she said, side-stepping that her thank you was about the ki-giving, because she knew his pride would not tolerate her saying that. "But there's no more need for those, what did you like to call them again? Oh yeah, "stupidities" anymore, so just drop it and get over it. Didn't think Mister "I'm the prince of all saiyans and I could kill you with just a stare" would be so… _sensitive_." She giggled and winked at him, and Vegeta's face flushed.

"Turn things around until they seem like you want them to be, woman. If it helps you to live in a land of self-made illusions, then maybe it's not _my_ problem. And I don't have time for this, either."

Vegeta was eyeing her, looking for a hint of disgust and disapproval in her aqua eyes. He was sure he'd seen that look on her yesterday; he'd seen it on more creatures than he could count and he always expected to see it. But she had never had that look on her, and somehow it had caught him off-guard when she'd suddenly had. And it shouldn't have caught him off-guard; he shouldn't have expected it to not be there. So he'd left.

But now, all he could see in her eyes was a sort of amusement and spirit; she wanted something from him and she was determined to get it. No fear, no disgust, no nothing…

"I'd like to repeat those exact same words to you, Vegeta. But come off it and just come back, will you. Couldn't you have picked a nicer place to sulk, by the way? It's friggin' hot out here but it's so humid that you still get wet, and it's hard to breathe! How do you manage this?"

"A Saiyan does not need to "manage"; he just does."

Bulma rolled her eyes at that.

"That's a lot of big talk for such a small man."

"Shut up NOW!"

The saiyan's eyes narrowed threateningly, but Bulma just waved it away.

"C'mon, you're probably the strongest guy in the universe right now; no need to worry about your height."

Vegeta just looked at her, utterly appalled. One minute she was insulting him, the other she was complimenting him, and he was sure it was all a strategy in some incomprehensible game she was playing with him. She wanted to confuse him, but usually after an enemy would have the other thoroughly confused; he would strike. What would **she** strike with?

"Oh look, how pretty!" Bulma suddenly exclaimed, pointing at a butterfly which wings looked like they were made of glass. But the sight just lasted for a couple of seconds because a small beam struck the creature, making it fade in flames.

It had been a reflex. He hadn't even spent a single second thinking about it. She'd made him aware of vermin; he'd killed it. He hadn't done it because he wanted to bug her, or felt a necessity to kill it. It was just what he was used to do to vermin. His hand had just moved.

"What was that for, Vegeta? How could you just kill that beautiful butterfly?!"

The prince shrugged. "It was a bug."

"It was a **butterfly**! And you don't kill butterflies!"

"Wasn't it you who was stomping on ants you accidentally sat on four days ago, screaming something along the lines of 'die'? What's the difference?"

"Butterflies are pretty! You don't kill pretty things!"

Internally, Vegeta started to laugh. Now **that** was an argumentation. He was wondering if she was just speaking about butterflies or whether she was also referring to herself. It was a bizarre rule to set, anyhow.

"Are you sure about that? Because I was just looking at The Namek yesterday and I didn't really think his features suited him. Should I just kill him?"

"Argh! Stop messing around you jerk! Just don't kill butterflies from now on!"

"Okay, I won't kill **bugs** if it disturbs you that much," the prince reiterated, lifting Bulma from the ground while she was too busy being infuriated with him to notice.

"Butterflies!"

"Bugs," he said. And he took to the air.

Bulma yelped, but in mere seconds they already set foot on the compound. Or, well, Vegeta set foot as he dropped Bulma.

"Jerk! Pay attention to what you're doing will you! For all you knew my jetcopter could have still been there and I'd never get it back from that jungle!"

But Vegeta didn't pay attention to her as he started walking up to the house.

"I will have food in one hour."

"But it's still in the afternoon!"

"I will have it."

Mrs. Briefs, who had been watering her rhododendrons, noticed her daughter and walked up enthusiastically.

"Hi honey, did you and Vegeta have fun?"

"Ugh, we _would_ have had fun if Vegeta wouldn't have been killing bugs all the time!"

"Butterflies," Vegeta called back from the house.

Bulma's mouth dropped open. That man was unbelievable.

Bunny giggled. "Well it sounds like you two had fun. But that poor man's been outside for so long, he must be starving. I'll go make him something!"

"Mom no, it's hours until dinner!"

But her mom had reached a world of her own and went to the kitchen, muttering something along the lines of 'headstrong men are so inspiring' underneath her breath.

Bulma lay down on the concrete. Her head was pounding through the painkillers.

"I think I need to go and couch-crash again; people here are driving me crazy."


	6. Arguments Aside

**Author's Notes: **I apologize for the delay this chapter. I've had exams which, thank God, are finished now, and I had to concentrate solely on exam-revision for a while. But now I'm back with another chapter and I hope you'll enjoy it. Feedback of any kind is highly appreciated; it's always good to hear where you can improve and whether you're on the right track.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

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Chapter 6: Arguments Aside

Two weeks had gone by since Vegeta's short-lived departure from the Capsule Corporation grounds. Two weeks in which all inhabitants had gotten used to bickering between the haughty saiyan prince and the fierce heiress of Capsule Corp at times that almost seemed set. After the first two days, most Nameks knew to stay clear of the courtyard at dawn, noon and dusk so as to protect their sensitive hearing from the shrill sounds of the two hot-heads rowing. And where the Nameks did everything in their power to vacate the scene whenever the two had found something new to argue about, Bunny Briefs seemed to appear out of nowhere, sitting on a chair, slurping on a cocktail through a colored straw and giggling girlishly. She even missed out on her evening-soap every now and then when things got interesting, which she seemed to possess almost impossible maternal instinct for; smelling the clashing insults like a hound dead-set on the fox's trail while hunting.

And this chill morning, Vegeta and Bulma's argument seemed to have started a little early (albeit without Bunny's watchful eye); several Nameks had only just started scurrying away.

"For the last time, **woman**, I will not indulge any saiyan technology to you to help you and your father improve your petty projects!"

"Well I'd think twice about that, **bozo**, because you might find us somewhat less hospitable to your royal ass if you won't! You're just profiting off of the company, living here, eating our food and our money, but will you do something back? No-ho!"

"If you invite someone to live with you, woman, I'd advice to talk about payment first, and not to suddenly start demanding it when you find your guest has something that you could profit off."

Bulma flushed. That hit a little too close to home. She didn't require payment from the Nameks. But they were pleasant and humble and grateful. Whereas he expected to be waited on and had no sense of guilt whatsoever.

The Nameks were willing to tell her everything of their culture she wanted to know, but they had nothing to share that was of value to her.

And Vegeta had more knowledge of alien cultures and technologies than she could possibly imagine, having lived as a recruit of Frieza for so long, moving from planet to planet, from solar system to solar system… and he wouldn't even pass the information on to her as a token of gratitude at having been presented with a home at a time when he had no place to turn to.

"If someone invites you to live at their place to put a roof over your head," she started deceivingly calmly, "**then maybe some gratitude is in order!**" she finished yelling.

"Perhaps it is **you** who should be grateful I didn't snap your little neck on Namek!"

And Vegeta barged away, done with the argument.

'How dare he,' Bulma muttered beneath her breath. But then a twinge of guilt hit her as she remembered what had preceded her unfortunate fall from the stairs a little over two weeks ago. If Vegeta's whimpering through the horrors of his nightmare hadn't distracted her, she would have noticed her father's blueprints. She wouldn't have fallen.

And all this time, she hadn't remembered this. The doctor had probably been right saying that she might suffer bouts of temporary amnesia just before or in the days just after she got her brains shaken up.

But now she couldn't help feeling the guilt gnaw away at her heart. He'd spent his life in the service of Frieza, and all pointed towards Vegeta having spent his life in torment.

And here she was, demanding information on his murky past to improve the company, while relenting the information might do him more harm than good, triggering tantalizing memories that would haunt him throughout the night.

She let her head hang and sighed, then retreated into the kitchen. She made herself some toast with butter and apricot-jam, and went into the living-room.

Vegeta was nowhere to be seen, while she knew he hadn't eaten breakfast yet.

She'd been excited about an almost-breakthrough she and her father had reached that very night, and they could succeed if only Vegeta would be willing to relent even the tiniest smidge of information on the inner workings behind the scouter. So she'd started on him as soon as he'd exited his room, having waited for him in the hall.

And now he probably wouldn't enter the kitchen unless she wasn't around. In the end, she decided on leaving Vegeta a post-it stuck on the refrigerator-door.

___________________________________________________________________________

As Vegeta walked into the kitchen, his eyes set on the refrigerator he planned to empty of its innards, his eyes dwelled on the little note that was perched on the door.

'Vegeta, I'm sorry, I'll drop it, okay? Bulma,' he read quietly. His eyes had widened and his mouth stood slightly agape. Then he shook his head, crumbled the piece of paper in his hand until it ceased existence and opened the door to get something to eat.

Earthling females were inconceivable…

___________________________________________________________________________

Vegeta eyed her suspiciously from his armchair as she entered the living-room. But she just past him, only passing him a swift glance, and sat down on the couch while fetching the remote-control.

The saiyan diverted his eyes from the aqua-haired woman as she started flipping through the channels impatiently, and turned back to the zoned-out state he'd been in before she entered.

After settling down on the couch, Bulma glanced sideways at Vegeta, scrutinizing him just as suspiciously as he had done to her only moments ago. He didn't say anything about the post-it, but she'd noticed it'd gone. He must have read it, right? Her parents were stupid, but surely they had not yet gone to that level so far beyond stupidity that would prevent them from realizing that post-it was intended for Vegeta, and was not to be removed without consent? No, he must have read it… and now he wasn't commenting on it and reassuring her as he ought to be doing… jerk, playing with her feelings like that.

"I thought we estimated on the first day of my presence here that it is rude to stare?"

Bulma's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but always, her tongue outran her emotions by miles.

"No, you estimated that whether it was rude or not was besides the point and that you would stare at me when you wanted to."

The blue-haired vixen crossed her legs, folded her arms and looked at Vegeta expectantly. He smirked.

"Ah, so you can't suppress the urge to stare?"

The prince waited a small moment before he continued, closing his eyes vainly and smiling to reach the effect of that small intermission.

"Well, I can't say I blame you."

Bulma flushed again, albeit this time not out of guilt. She was red-hot with anger, frustration and shame at having been outsmarted, at hearing the glee in his taunting voice, and she searched her brain desperately for a comeback befitting the occasion.

"I was staring at you to search for clues as to what on earth goes on in that mind of yours, whereas the reason **you** were staring at me that night is still a mystery to me. Do indulge me…"

And her eyebrows shot up again, but this time not out of astonishment at the sudden sound of his voice, but in solemn expectation and perhaps, slight mockery, awaiting a response…

The retort hadn't been her best, but it held a piece of honesty while it instigated all the same; Bulma's Briefs' favorite kind of retort!

"I was searching your incomprehensible brain too, but so far, all you've left me with are stupidities. Ah, too bad," Vegeta reiterated smugly.

Scowling, Bulma stood up and stalked towards the burgundy armchair Vegeta was occupying.

"Look here, bozo," she started, pricking her index-finger against his chest-plate like she would again at the prince's return from his search for Goku in space almost a year later.

"If I only had "stupidities", I wouldn't be able to invent things. If you want to insult me, do it properly. No flawed arguments, mister. It's not only **my** intelligence you're insulting," she concluded, hands on her hips and a death-glare on her face.

Yet Bulma's arms slumped and her spark faded as Vegeta didn't respond at all, although he'd started to regard her with a renewed, mild form of interest.

In the end, she decided to just give it up. This was like fighting a lost battle.

"Have you eaten enough, actually? I've noticed we don't have much left in the kitchen, whereas mom forgot to re-stock and she and dad are out for the night."

Vegeta gave a curt jerk with the head that indicated a 'no'; he hadn't eaten enough.

"I'll order a dozen of pizza's then."

And she walked out of the room without another word or a look back.

Later that night, both hot-heads ate pizza on the couch in silence. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence though, not one full of tension and unsaid things. It was the kind of silence that would sometimes pass between people who knew each other very well, and who sometimes just didn't need words to feel at ease with one another.

___________________________________________________________________________

After showering and brushing her teeth, Bulma slipped into slim jeans and a purple top rather than into her night-clothing. Somehow she just didn't feel up to the simple task of going to bed and trying to get some sleep in. She'd always had trouble facing the night whenever her parents weren't in the house, ever since she was a little girl. And her dad at least had to go to conferences every now and then. And it wasn't as if he could always go by himself; mom had to accompany him sometimes.

Of course, she'd gone along as she got older, and a lot of important names out there really valued her input nowadays. But she couldn't always tag along. There were plenty of seminars her father had to take care of by himself, because surprisingly, people weren't keen to buy their products when a bit too opinionated of a female who couldn't keep her mouth shut during meetings was the one doing the advertising. And Bulma just couldn't stand not being listened to! She had improved over the years, and especially after Namek her father had given her a surprised compliment about her newfound restraint and sense of responsibility. Namek really had changed her, if only gradually. But she was still far from running the company and she didn't want the responsibility now anyway. Rather staying home and facing a night alone than facing severe, probably damaging and possibly lethal boredom, right?

For a short moment, Bulma wondered whether she should kill time by cleaning her room. But then she remembered the mess she'd left in there: sheets in a heap on the floor, items of clothing and pencils accompanying her sheets and stuck underneath her bed because her hamper had been full, and a bottle of ginger ale she'd let slip from her alcohol-strained grasp over a week ago, when she'd been working on her own method of healing up from her concussion… the liquid and the broken glass was everywhere, and somehow she'd still managed to sleep in her room safely.

The mess was just a part of her personality and it made her feel right at home, she didn't even bother asking the cleaning-bots to take care of it. Of course, her mother knew and she would clean her room every two weeks, but she'd consented to let her daughter mess around for the remaining time because it seemed to make her happy in that strange fashion that was Bulma.

But no, cleaning her room was most definitely not a very attractive night-time activity. She decided on taking a stroll through the garden. Fresh air was always good, right? And she liked the way the world seemed so different at night. It held something magical.

Maybe she'd sit against the space-ship where she found Vegeta sitting on her first night on earth after her adventure on Namek. Smiling at the memory, she went downstairs and into the garden through the kitchen-door.

Yet when she reached the space-ship, the turquoise-haired genius couldn't have possibly found herself more dumbfounded than she did. Vegeta, prince of all saiyans, was sitting at the exact same spot she'd found him in forty-one days ago. As if he'd never left it…

Just like they had been then, his eyes were gazing skywards. She wondered if he wouldn't notice her this time either. As she moved in and even sat down beside him, purposely brushing his side, it became evident that he did notice her, but chose to disregard her as much as he could allow himself to. He'd looked at her for a brief moment when she sat down, his eyes pools of unknowable black, and had then turned to watch the stars again.

Bulma couldn't help but wonder if there was something he was looking for in that infinite sky, if he was searching for a specific star or planet or moon between these billions and billions of white dots.

But she didn't want to risk anything with Vegeta again by talking without invitation. It was a miracle in itself that he was allowing her to sit next to him, and besides, what would she gain if she'd start attempting to make conversation? And quite frankly; she didn't want to be alone tonight. And if she was going to go about her usual way, trying to loosen the prince up, or disregarding his space, as he referred to it, she didn't doubt she **would** be alone tonight.

And however strange, however incomprehensible, however out of reach… his presence was of inexpressible comfort to her.

And as she studied his contours, it struck her that the man beside her seemed haunted. A more lonesome creature than she'd ever seen…

And as Bulma thought these thoughts, her mind drifted off to that place where only dreams can follow, her head lolling sideways onto Vegeta's shoulder. And Vegeta felt strands of cerulean hair nuzzle against his cheek and the presence of her soft skin… her warmth, somehow… was inexplicable to him.

When the Capsule Corporation heiress awoke next morning to the smell of vanilla pancakes, courtesy of Bunny Briefs, she wondered how she'd gotten to her bed…


	7. At the Lake

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

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Chapter 7: At the Lake

You know that feeling earthlings have when they wake up with a hangover? That feeling of having done something incredibly stupid, something shameful?

Well, our one and only saiyan prince experienced his own equivalent of this human sensation when he awoke 'the morning-after'…

What have I done? How could I have been so stupid? Can't I handle these human pheromones or something? There's no excuse, **no** excuse, for an elite warrior of the saiyan race, for a saiyan of royal blood, to take a creature of inferior race **to bed**. To _care_ for it.

The word itself made Vegeta shiver with contempt, and he couldn't help but feel that he'd been hoodwinked somehow. After coming up with millions of ways the woman could have possibly tricked him in giving into this lapse of insanity (perhaps she was missing that earthling boyfriend of hers and had noticed how much of a better catch he would be, or she simply wanted to feel like she could control him), he started coming up with ways in which the universe, that had clearly been against him since birth, had thwarted the prince of saiyans once more. And at last, he finally came around to blaming Kakarot, of who it could not be more obvious that the low-class was determined to humiliate him even beyond death.

But then his train of thought darkened as he imagined his father's bitter disappointment at what his son had come to be. A mindless robot of Frieza's, who hadn't even been able to defeat him and who'd then succumbed to a pitiful existence on earth.

His wounded pride allowed his whole life to flash before his mind's eye and put everything in perspective, albeit in its own warped, torturing way. His mind felt like it was falling into a dark pool of icy water, numbing his every nerve.

This had to stop… He had to stay here and wait for Kakarot's return, he had to become a super saiyan and make amends, fix the damage done, regain his honor, rise to his rightful place… and until that time, he had to keep his act together. He couldn't permit himself to fall any further into the line of degradation his life had kept in store for him. He **wouldn't**.

___________________________________________________________________________

After having finished a pile of her mother's delicious pancakes, Bulma decided to go on a shopping spree.

She was still wearing the jeans and the purple top she'd put on the night before. She had obviously slept in them, but keeping them on seemed just about the easiest thing to the giddy girl. Besides, she was going to **shop**. She'd be wearing different clothes in no-time!

It would be the first time for her to leave the compound since she'd returned to it after her adventures on Namek, apart from the time she'd left to search for the brooding Vegeta.

It was like she had been enclosed by the compound, captured tightly by the sense of obligation to play hostess around aliens who'd lost their home. And she somehow had the feeling that **this** was the day to break out of that shell. To breathe the worldly air again. This was _her_ day.

She would buy clothes and jewelry, treat herself to ice-cream… perhaps she would even treat herself to a brand new wardrobe entirely. She could throw her old one out then; she still wore clothing she had worn when she'd been off dragonball-hunting with Goku, back in the old days. She'd been sixteen then, but she was a woman in the beginning of her thirties now, and that just didn't cut it anymore. Not that it wasn't a compliment to her stunning figure! But it was time for some renewal. A brand new Bulma with who Yamcha would fall in love with all over again when he'd return from other world and set eyes on her.

___________________________________________________________________________

Vegeta'd skipped on the overly-sweet breakfast Bunny Briefs had served and had flown out of his bedroom-window first thing in the morning. It wasn't long before he found a solitary lake somewhere in the mountains surrounded by silver-fir trees. He let his ki drop until it was almost nothing, lower than when he had been an infant, and allowed for a free-fall into the cold water, submerging himself without second thought.

He'd already sunk a long way before he increased his ki level again to regain control over his body he'd surrendered to the water and started swimming. His hair was pushed backwards slightly and drifted playfully around him as he plunged forward.

As a soldier of Frieza he'd discovered that moving underwater was not only a good move to outsmart an enemy. The way the water changed the laws of sound and light intrigued him, the pressure surrounding him and the humming of hardly discernable obtuse sound numbed his unwelcome thoughts, and he was powerful enough to withstand many of the disadvantages moving in water meant to his body – intended for land. All in all, it soothed him. And with erasing all unwelcome thoughts, it brought the prince a certain clarity of mind.

Kelp and algae covered the lake's floor. Vegeta saw that he was nearing a coral reef of many colors; yellow, orange and cyan were staring him in the face. He dove deeper and noticed an underwater-cave looming up ahead. He knew he couldn't do without oxygen forever, but he decided to take the risk of the cave being bigger than he could estimate from where he was and swam towards the entrance. If he ran out of air, he could always power up and blast through the roof of the place.

He needn't have worried, though. The cave led him into a tunnel moving upwards, and then brought him out of the water and onto a bank. There was oxygen here, although it seemed thick and heavy somehow. There were various sandy pathways leading up further into the cave.

"Being quite the labyrinth, huh."

His voice sounded hollow here and it echoed off the walls. Somehow this cave started to unnerve Vegeta. What was he doing here anyway?

But he shrugged the sensation off and proceeded into the left passageway.

___________________________________________________________________________

Cars zoomed in and out of the shopping streets of West City as Bulma, holding a beaded bag, walked across the pavement cheerily.

What her peers at school had called her 'infamous shopping-capsules' were stuffed carefully in tin containers in her bag, waiting expectantly for their soon-to-be-purchased content.

Bulma sighed nostalgically as she past various window panes she was sure Yamcha would have nudged her to stop, using his puppy-dog eyes as ploy. Martial arts supplies, video games and all-that-you-need stores to satisfy his baseball-infatuation.

The blue-haired woman laughed heartily. Yamcha, the famous baseball-player… she had to admit; the more popular he'd become, the more easily he'd been able to set her off.

He'd insulted her on this topic more than once, saying she couldn't stand not being the only famous person anymore. But that had never been it. It was the female attention and how he drunk it in as if he could never get enough. She'd saved him from his shyness around women, and that was just what drifted him away from her. He'd never been able to talk to females so casually before, had never experimented… heck, it hadn't been intentional.

With that, she shrugged it off. They were meant to be together; it had been obvious ever since their eyes met. There was no need for doubt. They were soul mates and when Yamcha returned from the dead, they would start with a clean slate.

___________________________________________________________________________

The saiyan sat alone against a cold, stone wall in a circular space inside the cave the meandering passageway had led him to. He could hardly discern his surroundings in the darkness. His breathing was shallow and his eyes were closed. It was clear that his mind, whether willingly or not, had wandered far from the insides of the cave.

"_Father," the boy ended the conversation with a curt bow and he turned, walking away through the hallways supported by__ marble columns, his red cape billowing behind him. There were velvet, burgundy curtains draped casually in between the columns, all decorated with notches in the shape of the royal__ saiyan__ symbol. The floor the young prince walked on was made of a material that resembled granite, but which wasn't quite it. _

_There were no obstacles in the child's pathway; no elite__ saiyan__ guards, no low-class scum that had managed to sneak into the palace, no alien servants or spies implanted by their overlord, Lord__ Frieza__, and none of the other inhabitants of the royal family's home. _

_He turned a corner and opened a heavy door that was made of some kind of metal inherent to the__ saiyans__' planet with apparent ease. _

_There were strange markings carved in the metal; circles, triangles and squares altered by differing size and the use of stripes and dots. Maybe it read the child's name in his native language. The royal__ saiyan__ symbol that resembled an anchor was also carved in the door. _

_Diffuse light poured the room as the planet's suns shone brightly in the magenta-red sky, and several particles of dust could be seen through the beams that were shot at the floor. The child sat in an opened window, looking at the world below him from his high location. __He sat tugged in his cape as if it was a blanket and his tail was caressing the windowsill absentmindedly. __His charcoal eyes seemed empty and his flame-like onyx hair was calmly waving along with the soft breeze. He still had the chubby cheeks of an infant, but despite his young age, there were no emotions betrayed on his features. __Emotions didn't suit a saiyan elite. A saiyan prince. __One who would rule the people one day; put forth an example. _

_A loud, disturbing knock on the door. __"Who is it?" the child barked aggressively. _

"_It is your loyal guard Nappa, young master," came the reply. _

"_Hmph__," the child let his annoyance know. "Enter, then." __A tall and broad man with a short tuff of black hair pushed the door aside and stood waiting in the doorway. _

"_Please come along, young prince__ Vegeta__. Our overlord has requested an audience with you, as he has as of now not yet received the__ honor__ to set his eyes on the pride of our people." He gave the boy a quick bow to underline his words and his expected respect to the youngest member of the royal family he had been assigned to protect since birth. _

_Vegeta__ turned around from his place on the windowsill for the first time now, to look at his visitor, acknowledge his presence and consider his request. _

"_And why would I want to pleasure him with the__ honor__,__ Nappa__?"_

_The truth was that the young prince knew very well why he should want to pleasure their overlord with the__ honor__. His father had just spoken to him about it. About how it would be dangerous if he were to decline if__ Frieza__ ever requested to meet him. About how his father had shielded him from__ Frieza__ so far, but could not do so forever. _

_But he didn't see why he had to oblige. It angered him. That monster was stealing their people's__ honor__, was using them as slaves. They were the strongest people in the universe; they were not meant to be ruled like weaklings. But his father had told him that__ Frieza__ was stronger. __Stronger than he could possibly fathom. __His father said they had to bide their time until they could summon the strength to overthrow their overlord. __To summon the strength of the legendary super saiyan. __And if his father would not rise to that occasion, the young prince, so much stronger than his father had been at his age, certainly would. But until that time, they had to do__ Frieza's__ bidding and treat him like a king. _

_Vegeta__ shivered with barely disguised contempt at his father's words. "Treat him like a king"… come running like mindless dogs upon the return of their master, he should have said. His father was the king! Not__ Frieza__! But there was nothing he could do about it… not yet. And he had to control his temper until then. Hold it all in. He couldn't stand it. _

"_You must, young prince. Your father –"_

_But the young prince interrupted him. _

"_Will be in trouble otherwise. __Stop looking at me like that,__ Nappa__. I know. But people should be straightforward when they're not really requesting something, but ordering."_

_With those words, the child sprang up from the windowsill and strode past__ Nappa__ through his bedroom door. His guard stood surprised for a short moment before regaining himself and quickly following in the crown prince's wake. He felt relieved. _

_They flew for a short way towards the place where__ Frieza__ had 'parked' his treasured space-ship.__ Nappa__ had serious issues keeping up with his prodigy, who seemed determined to get this audience – on their overlord's territory – over with as fast as he possibly could. _

_As the child had never seen their overlord but only knew of him through what his father__ had told him in their provident moments together and through the ins and outs of the palace administration his father had him tutored in, it worried__ Nappa__ if the child would betray shock, fear or disgust at the sight of the creature. That could behold__ disastrous__ consequences for both the prince and king and through them, for all the__ saiyan__ classes. _

_And the child's talent for displaying cheek at the most unfortunate moments worried the__ saiyan__ as well. And he was not aware of how much of this the king himself had discussed with his child, and how much control he yielded over the conduct of his son. He was facing an internal struggle he had already faced many times in the young life of the prince flying in front of him. __Protection as number one, or politeness to royalty as number one? _

_The problem was that the king could call him on both. If he hadn't been polite enough to his son he could be called upon, even if his impoliteness had caused the prince to live through a situation unscathed and had upheld the good name of the royal family. _

_If he hadn't protected him properly because he'd remembered to __be polite to the child of a higher position than him at all times, he could pretty much be done for too. _

_Cursing himself for doing it while he did it, he decided that protection was more important. _

"_Prince__ Vegeta__, please listen to me. Remember to speak to our overlord with two words at all times and call him "sire" or "lord". Don't ever let him get under your skin. Be composed!"_

_Vegeta__ turned around and waited for his guard in mid-air, smiling slightly. __The smile looked fake in some way, and his eyes glinted with a form of excitement which didn't suit the four-year-old child, and which somehow seemed to guard something deeper inside him. _

"_Scared,__ Nappa__? I wouldn't expect you not to be. Don't worry yourself with petty worries and leave things up to me. Just keep my back covered."_

_The child's face had hardened at his last sentence and he looked at__ Nappa__ as if he was trying to convey something to him without actually having to do so. _

"_Of course, my prince."_

_Vegeta__ nodded and started descending towards the space-ship.__ Nappa__ was still in doubt, but understanding started to dawn on him somewhere in his mind. The prince was just as scared as he was, but he wanted to drown his fear by taking matters into his own hands. And he should do his part, just as the king had ordered him to. __Nothing more, nothing less. _

_A blue-skinned, handsome man stood awaiting the crown prince in the entrance of the ship, his green, sleek hair put casually into a braid which was draped over his shoulder. _

"_Ah. Young prince Vegeta, I presume? And who, child, may that tall man behind you be?"_

"_Just my escort. Lord Frieza requested an audience to meet me?"_

"_He sure did. This way," Zarbon led the prince and his guard into the ship. The door closed behind them as they passed through. Nappa, who had obviously been inside the ship before, didn't respond at this. Vegeta didn't show a response either, not one visible to Zarbon anyway. But his left eye twitched with his sense of unease. _

_It didn't take the prince long to decide that Zarbon's earrings and gay manner of speech annoyed him. For all he considered dignity, that man had no pride at all. _

_But after a long walk in the white, circular halls Zarbon stopped and turned towards a door that opened after he pushed a button. _

_And there it was that __the young Vegeta saw what would be his future tormentor for the first time in his life. He was standing beside his hover-chair, his tail was pointed towards the prince and he held a glass of wine in hand. Vegeta couldn't suppress a 'tsk' to indicate his disgust and Nappa tensed immediately, but Frieza didn't seem to notice or care. _

_He turned around slowly, teasingly, and faced the young prince. Just by the look in his eyes he disregarded both Zarbon as Nappa with ease, as if they weren't even present in the room. And from that moment on, it was clear who would dictate the course of this meeting. It felt more as if Vegeta had come to an audience with Frieza than the other way around. _

"_So, you must be the young Vegeta. It pleasures me to meet you, young prince. It is quite an honor I presume; otherwise your father would not have withheld it from me for so long, isn't it?"_

_Vegeta didn't respond, just looked at him. The lizard continued. _

"_You look very much like your father, slightly more handsome and a little frail, maybe. But that build could improve your speed. Although, most certainly you must worry if you'll become an impressive enough king?"_

_Frieza's voice was silky and tantalizing, challenging and searching his target with every syllable he uttered, testing for a weakness. And this time, he wasn't going to let the child before him off with silence. He was waiting for an answer, patiently, but with menace. _

"_I don't, sire. I know I have all it'll take to make a good king."_

_The crown prince was holding his chin up high and was answering the tyrant's look with unwavering eyes. He was going to stand his ground; for his father, for their people. _

"_Ah… confidence. Confidence suitable of a king. I see… your father taught you well. Even for a house of monkeys upbringing must be important in a monarchy."_

_Frieza stopped for a moment to consider the prince whose eyes had flown open, shocked, at the sound of their overlord throwing around the phrase 'monkeys' so casually. He had regained his composure by now, but his mistake was evident. He had been told the lizard thought this way of their race, had been told he spoke of them like that… but he had never expected the tyrant to show it so directly on a first meeting. _

_His father had said Frieza could be very polite when he wanted to be, to observe his prey, to gain what he wanted with mere manipulation. He just hadn't expected him to use another method. To not stick to the regulations of politeness, at least in their basic form. _

"_I beg your pardon, sire. I was thrown off – monkeys cannot speak," Vegeta attempted a – slightly rebellious – rescue with a deep bow. _

_At this display, Nappa slapped his hand in front of his eyes and Frieza laughed heartily. _

"_Thanks a lot for the reminder, prince Vegeta. I'd almost forgotten."_

_And the lizard returned the bow. Vegeta was flabbergasted by this reaction, but kept a poker-face, nodded curtly and stood upright again. _

"_You're an intriguing child. And with a power-level that's practically legendary among some of my servants here. Not dear Zarbon, of course –", and he gestured to the blue man with his left hand, as his right was still holding the glass of wine, "but a lot of the underlings that guard the hallways of my ship already fear your name. So I thought it high time to meet such an admirable prodigy. I must thank you for complying with my wish of meeting you."_

_Vegeta didn't know what kind of a reply was expected of him now, but decided on a simple "of course, sire," to do away with it. _

"_Oh my… such a ..captivating.. child," Frieza said in a smooth voice, but sharp like the blade of a knife. Vegeta didn't understand what he'd done to make their overlord speak in such a manner in his presence, but decided to wait silently for what was to come. _

"_Yet, however compliant you've been, I have another ..request.. for you, young prince."_

_Vegeta's eye twitched again at how Frieza used the word 'request'.. nothing but a badly masked order again. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't!_

"_There's no need to pretend something's a request when it's an order… not with me." _

_He glared at the tyrant who looked just as bemused as he looked pleased. _

"_Prince Vegeta!" Nappa reminded the child warningly. _

"_**Sire**__," the young prince added, making no attempt at hiding the venom in his voice. _

_But Frieza merely snickered and looked as if he'd just come across a trophy of unwilling nature he definitely had to collect. _

"_Alright then.. you truly are a prince of a higher class, Vegeta. And such amazing qualities should be rewarded, not punished. Isn't that right, Zarbon?"_

"_Absolutely, sire," Zarbon said in his mundane voice despite obviously having thought the child should have gotten some respect beaten into him moments before. _

"_That's settled then. Prince Vegeta, you will fulfill a mission for me. By that mission I will estimate your worth to me… and if you turn out not to be so worthy –", he chuckled again, "well, let's just say the saiyans will have to do without their king. Do you understand me?"_

"_Yes, sire."_

"_A smart monkey, huh? Zarbon here will escort you to a space-pod. It will lull you into a state of hibernation while you travel to planet Kaai in one-and-a-half day. You will track down a reptilian family of four that has opposed me – you must understand that loyalty is very important to me, Vegeta. Zarbon will fill you in on the details that will enable you to track them down, and supply you with the necessary equipment. You, small Vegeta…", Frieza's lips curled. "You'll bring me their heads."_

_After that, everything turned blurry. Vegeta had informed in an empty voice if his father would know he'd be gone for a small week. "He will soon enough, won't he?" had been the reply. Nappa, who had not once left the prince's side when he'd gone outside of the palace, even if he had not been aware of it, had attempted to come along with his prince. But Zarbon had knocked him out-cold in seconds' time, saying the prince travelled alone. Nappa's last thought had been how to explain his failure to the king. _

_When the four-year-old Vegeta stood before Frieza again five days later, having dropped three of the heads at the lizard's feet and still holding onto that of the eight-year-old reptilian boy which was still dripping green blood, Frieza walked up to him until there was no more than an inch between the prince and his overlord. Between a slave and his master. The child's tail jerked upwards involuntarily as the monster stroked his hair for the first time. _

_Nothing compared to the fear and disgust that had flooded him back then.. at what he had done.. at the thing still dripping in his hand, the boy's screams echoing in his mind. _

Vegeta's eyes flew open as his senses returned to the present. The cave. This damned cave!

Within seconds, the saiyan prince was above the lake again, his power spiraling out of control. The earth shook.

___________________________________________________________________________

Bulma was just trying on a cream dress when the earthquake hit. She shrieked and hid under a pile of jackets that had already fallen off their shelf. Glass broke out of windows and people were running around in blind panic everywhere.

What had gone wrong? Weren't the authorities able to send out warning of an oncoming earthquake? Their technology was good enough for it, right?

___________________________________________________________________________

Light-blue beams were ricocheting everywhere around the lake in the mountains. Smoke issued from the water. Vegeta was losing himself. His mind still half-lingered in his past, and he wondered rabidly how long he'd been in that underwater-cave.

The lake needed to be gone. In his food- and oxygen-deprived mind, all that needed to be done was destroy the cave and with that, the lake – for good measure – and all would be solved. Everything would fall into place again.

As more and more beams hit the lake, the smoke thickened until the space between the trees was covered in darkness. The prince waited quietly, hanging in mid-air, breathing hard. When the smoke cleared, there were no remnants of a lake. Just a large crater. Nothing more.

Vegeta descended into the crater. He was shivering and he felt disgusted with himself. He would not stand for this – this weakness. He wouldn't!

He began to power up in earnest now, trying to harness everything that was important to him, to capture it, to never let it slide away from him again; his pride, his honor, his dignity…

"Vegeta."

A calm but demanding voice from behind him. The prince stopped powering up and turned.

It was the Namek. He was looking at him sternly, with a sense of determination and perhaps, concern. He didn't like it either way.

"What are you doing here?"

"You're making the earth shake, Vegeta. You have to stop this."

Piccolo looked at the saiyan before him in earnest, but he didn't get a reply as the man looked away from him. He tried again.

"I don't know what's set you off –"

"Mind your own business, Namek."

"I would if you weren't causing the earth damage. There's no need for me to keep an eye on you if you keep your cool. You're not being yourself, Vegeta. Something's wrong."

"How dare you. If I'm causing damage, then I'm obviously being myself!" he challenged the green bean's logic, trying for a provoking smirk that came out looking rather mad.

"Stop talking bullshit Vegeta. And stop pretending you even believe a word you're saying. If there wasn't something wrong, you wouldn't be going into a frenzy of a magnitude that implies either a life-or-death situation or a plan of mass destruction you've been concocting. Which is it? I thought you at least wanted to wait for Goku before turning things up; after all, you were the one who came up with the idea on how to get him back."

Vegeta had turned his back on Piccolo again. His shoulders were still heaving heavily with the sudden strain he'd put his body through so abruptly.

"Just leave me alone, Namek. There is no need to bother yourself with me – I won't 'damage' this mudball of a planet. Kakarot is my only objective, and I want him here."

The tall Namek shrugged. That saiyan was hard to follow sometimes, but he'd regained control over himself and that was all he concerned himself with.

"Fine then. As long as there is no need to meddle, you won't see me around."

And with those final words, Piccolo flew off, leaving Vegeta to his thoughts.

___________________________________________________________________________

Luckily, the earthquake hadn't lasted too long. There were a lot of broken windows in some cities, but overall, the damage wasn't as bad as the humans had feared when the ground beneath them had seemed to shift.

Bulma had taken her time to finish shopping after things had cooled down again. She wouldn't let an unexpected earthquake stand in her way!

She was in a wonderful mood with all these new clothes, and she had even caught up on the idea of going out to dance that night. Not for the male attention, of course – although she didn't mind ascertaining herself of her attractiveness to the opposite sex – but just for herself, for going out and letting everything go and having **fun** for once. It had been too long.

Capsule Corp's heiress entered her home positively pleased with herself. Her parents had already had dinner because she'd been out until 8 o'clock, but she put an instant-package in the microwave and took out her cream dress with matching jewelry and shoes and laid it all on the kitchen-table. She would eat and was planning to be in her favorite discotheque by nine, which would give her room for a night of fun.

Her mother had mentioned something about Vegeta not appearing for dinner either, but she hadn't registered it. She finished her instant cauliflower with potatoes in less than fifteen minutes and decided on watching her favorite soap before getting ready. Arriving there half past nine would be fine too, as long as it was not **much** later.

When she entered the living room she noticed Vegeta tugged into the burgundy arm-chair he so often occupied. He had taken his boots off, they were lying beside the chair, and he seemed to be staring into empty space. His knees practically hit his chest, just like Bulma imagined him to have been tucked into that small space-pod he'd once traveled with to earth.

"Hey Vegeta, what's up?" she said cheerily.

She didn't get a response but she didn't worry about it, either. Nothing could ruin her good spirits tonight! But after just five minutes of watching her program, she found something definitely could. A feeling of unease was creeping into her chest and she was continuously glancing sideways to Vegeta. Was he alive in there?

After another couple of minutes, she turned off the TV and walked towards him, tapping him on the shoulder. She felt the man stiffen beneath her touch and she let go quickly. She hadn't expected a response like that. He was so… tense, for some reason. And he was still staring ahead of him.

She went to the kitchen and removed her outfit for the night from the kitchen table, stuffed it into one of her capsules, put it in her bag that lay against the heating and left it there. There would be no dancing for Bulma Briefs tonight. The enthusiasm had sunk and left room for nothing but a sense of deep discomfort and worry. She really felt like crying.

___________________________________________________________________________

Vegeta had staggered through the sky to get back to the Capsule Corporation compound, but it had taken him much longer than it usually would have and it was already dark when he'd finally reached the place.

He knew he ought to be feeling famished at the very least after not having had a bite to eat all day, but somehow he just couldn't bring himself to eat. He could still hardly keep his mind in the present, and whenever he got it there, he felt so disgusted with his present situation, so unsuitable for the king he ought to have become, that his mind drifted off just as quickly.

He'd avoided the green inhabitants in the courtyard and had struggled his way to the arm-chair in the Briefs' living room where he'd installed himself and allowed his mind to wander. Maybe it would be over the next day if he'd just let his mind get it out of his system. He would make sure everyone realized who he was and how they should feel honored in his presence the next day. He would make sure they realized he had a goal he would chase against all odds. He would make sure they knew he could not be messed with and could not be made into another earthling weakling as they perhaps expected. And he would not allow himself to fall into degradation again.

He didn't know how long it had taken, but finally, he could focus fully on his present surroundings again. His mind felt numbed and empty, but at least it had cleared.

When he got up, he noticed the cerulean-haired female sleeping with her head slumped against the arm-chair, her slender figure slumped onto the wooden floor. He felt no surprise, no anger, no disgust.. just a certain.. curiosity, perhaps.

'Again?' he wondered.

He took her sleeping form in his arms, somehow freed from the stinging doubt that had bothered him the previous night, internalized insults that had ringed in his mind, a lost heritage that had acted violently; as if he'd been letting it slip away.

But he felt relieved now, elated.. like a heavy rock that had been crushing his heart ever so slowly had crumbled and given him place to move again.

He laid her on the still empty mattress of her bed carefully, noticing she was still wearing the same outfit she had worn the night before. How uncharacteristic…

Her room was the same mess, however. He decided he didn't care and took her sheets from the floor, throwing them over the woman unceremoniously. He had to regain control over what _he_ himself saw as damaging to his pride. He could set his own standards. And this meant nothing. There was no fuss necessary, and he refused to give in to unnecessities again.

The woman was his business. Just a side-show that let him get closer to his goal. He wouldn't allow her to become more than a side-show again. There was no need to fuss over side-shows and what he did or didn't do around them. A prince could choose how to fill in his own entertainment.

And if she ever dared to bring up the fact that he'd been so lenient to have brought her to bed after she'd been stupid enough to fall asleep aside him, which could have turned out to be her end just as easily, he was sure that would lead to nothing but a more interesting argument.

He looked around her room, shrugged as if saying 'why not' to no-one in particular, and started blasting around meticulously at some of the mess. The spilled and broken bottle of ginger ale was blasted to smithereens in no-time, various pencils were reduced to shreds, and now the saiyan prince was considering the items of clothing littered on her floor. Should he dispose of them because it was her fault for leaving them lying around anyway, should he use his ki to remove them to her desk (no way was he touching them!), or should he just leave them lying there…

As he tilted his head in careful consideration, Bulma took the dilemma out of his hands.

"I agree the pencils and the bottle could be thrown out, but not my clothes, would you, Vegeta?" Bulma said sleepily, rubbing her eyes with her right hand and sitting on her bed.

"You sure?"

For the first time in what felt like centuries, Vegeta sent her a genuine (albeit slightly taunting) smile. He was free to do whatever he wanted. There was no Frieza to watch his every move. And he would be a super saiyan soon. He **would** regain his rightful place.. he just needed to stop his mind sending him off in the wrong directions.

Bulma actually considered him, and then gave an answer that definitely stunned the saiyan.

"Oh, no actually, just blast them into nothingness. I forgot, I bought a whole new wardrobe," she smiled sheepishly, practically giddy, as if she was some school-girl telling Vegeta about a great achievement.

Vegeta looked at her bemused for a while, and then just shrugged.

"Whatever you want, woman. I'm your loyal servant," he laughed gruffly while rolling his eyes, using the accusation the woman always sent at him about having to serve his every need in reverse, mocking her antics with a slight instigation to her address.

Bulma laughed with him. She was glad to hear the humor returned to his voice. He was even positively friendly now he'd come out of whatever trance he'd been in.

She smiled, relieved. Everything would return to normal, now.


	8. Laboratory Antics

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

___________________________________________________________________________

Chapter 8: Laboratory Antics

The saiyan prince had been quick to rediscover a rhythm in the following week. He'd pester the woman in whatever she was doing in the mornings to start his day entertained, train in the afternoons and eat a well-deserved meal with the Briefs family in the evenings, after which he would just hang out in the living room until deciding on a last snack before going off to bed.

This new rhythm suited him well, like a new suit that immediately adapts to your skin. It fitted, far more so than his older train-in-the-mornings-to-work-off-nightmares routine had done. The nightmares hadn't stopped, but somehow their grasp on him had lessened.

Maybe his heart was finally starting to dare and believe its captivator had gone. And that he would not come back.

___________________________________________________________________________

It was a sunny day. There were hardly any clouds in the bright-blue sky, and the sun was blinding if you looked directly into it. Mrs. Briefs was busy handing out glasses of water to their Namekian guests, and she'd managed to drag her husband into the fresh air as well.

He was busy teaching a group of Namek kids the rules of poker. The elder Namek, Mori, was attempting to play golf again. His aim was more often off than on though…

"HEY, what do you think you're doing old man?!" Piccolo spat as he rose from what, up to now, had been a very pleasant meditation.

Mori flushed. "I'm sorry, my friend. I'm still working on my aim; I didn't mean to hit you."

Piccolo grumbled something while he clutched a spot above his left eye; obviously the spot where the golf-ball had hit him.

"I'll be meditating someplace quieter," he stated, and then flew away.

Mori, still feeling kind of embarrassed, turned to watch the poker game of the children and Dr. Briefs.

Yes, with all the excitement about staying on a whole new world to them, even the older Nameks were not the example of quiet and meditation they usually were.

For some reason Mori couldn't help but smile at the behavior of the grumpy Piccolo. Yet he knew for sure that his fellow Namek would someday appreciate earth the way he'd already learned to appreciate it.

"Catch, Mori!"

One of the children had gotten tired of playing poker and had found his golf-ball in the shade cast upon the grass by the old oak against which Piccolo had been sitting. The kid seemed to find the golf-ball quite suitable for throwing around.

The elder caught it just in time, smiled and went along with this little game of throw-and-catch. At least he knew his aim wouldn't be off with _this_!

___________________________________________________________________________

A delicate hand pushed a strand of turquoise back behind an ear decorated with a shimmering gem of a soothing, almost see-through blue.

The hand's counterpart was scribbling feverishly on a piece of lined paper while two dazzling blue eyes kept looking upwards at a square, opened box that seemed to contain all kinds of complex mechanisms. It resembled the innards of a motherboard somewhat.

Bulma suddenly stopped writing and started tapping her pen on the desk. It just didn't fit. She had to re-calculate. Again.

Pushing the metal chair she was occupying backwards with her legs, she stood up. It didn't matter. She'd crack it, somehow. All her concentration was into it today, and she was not planning on giving in. Not only did she have patience; she had all the time of the world.

Cross-legged, she sat down on the cold, tiled floor for a moment. She relished the buzzing of computers around her, she even relished the cold that radiated upwards into her body from the icy floor and the cold that had seemed to have made a home of the air in the basement-leveled laboratory and that hugged her body. All it did to her was freshen her mind and keep her on edge, and that was just what she needed when she wanted to work.

She was only wearing a sleeveless, white undershirt and faded jeans. Goosebumps covered her arms, but she didn't seem to care. It seemed that this was simply the way to get the best out of Bulma Briefs. And she couldn't go for less than 'best' if she ever wanted to get a hold of the technology behind the scouter.

Apparently ready to challenge the content of that strange, small box again, she got up with a jump and slammed the palm of her hands against the desk as she sat down.

The pen made an ugly blotch of ink on Bulma's recalculations as she put too much pressure on it when her father's digital clock beeped to let her know it was nine-thirty in the morning. She looked at the thing with so much loathing that she _had_ to be considering to rip it off the wall, at the very least.

How come her father never found the clock disturbing? She knew the answer to that, though. The man never even heard it. He heard nothing when he worked, unless you were working together with him on something and was quick-thinking enough to provide consistent contributions. One time she had kept quiet too long and he'd closed her out as he had with the rest of the world; together on some island with his beloved project. Bulma'd heard employees that worked with her father complain about it often enough, but they laughed and joked about it as much as they complained. Most of them said it kept them sharp.

She sighed, stood up to get some tissues from the sterilization-cupboard, and started dabbing on the spilled ink.

___________________________________________________________________________

Vegeta couldn't believe it. The past four days, the woman had missed **no** opportunity to prance around in her bathing suit because "The sun's shining!" or "Would you get over your hormones; it's bloody hot, Vegeta!". She'd even suggested he'd finally take his saiyan armor that he'd been wearing since Namek off, because "It's really gross and just plain unhealthy, you moron!". It was insulting and once again proved a vulgarity he could only scarcely comprehend… that woman really didn't know her place.

But why, for the sake of the great galaxies, **why** had she out of **nowhere** decided to skip on the opportunity when it was the hottest day so far?! Females really _did_ lack any form of sense and logic…

He'd already been on every part of the compound that morning, he'd laughed silently as he indifferently redirected Mori's golf-ball by ki to the Namek's eye, but he had yet to see Bulma anywhere around. Which could only mean one thing; that she'd locked herself in that lab of her and her fathers for some bizarre reason.

It was beyond him why she had chosen to waste precious time she could have spend in the vicinity of the pool in there, but he chose to disregard that as he left the roof and turned towards the lab. It wasn't as if he wouldn't find out soon enough.

___________________________________________________________________________

Gohan was re-reading the legend of Toujiro and the Dinosaur King for the third time. It was an assignment he had to do for history; he had to write an essay on how the legend had come to be, where it diverted from history and where it remained the same. It was about the humans making an agreement with the dinosaurs so they could live alongside each other in peace.

Gohan, being really into the legend, was spending more time dreaming up what it would have been like to be Toujiro than he was thinking about how the story fit in history.

Toujiro had taken on the mission by himself as a seven-year-old boy and had even refused to take a weapon with him, no matter what kind. He was only human; if the Dinosaur King had refused to listen to him he would have been toast. How brave…

During Gohan's daydream-session, he suddenly felt a familiar ki coming closer. It settled somewhere nearby. Couldn't be much more than a mountain away. But why would Piccolo strike down somewhere nearby? Was he telling Gohan to visit without risking facing the child's mother? If so, then that was a smart move.

The child hurried to finish his homework. If he would be finished in the afternoon, his mom would let him play outside until dinner. He could go and visit Piccolo then!

Suddenly excited, he took on the massive job of tackling his Toujiro-essay and the essay on the history of the Capsule Corporation capsule technology after that…

___________________________________________________________________________

Despite Bulma's meticulous and conscientious work, she had been forced to begin on her seventh re-calculation. Frustration was beginning to gnaw on her patience, but she wasn't going to show it. Vegeta had joined her when she'd been working on her fourth re-calculation. Strangely enough, he hadn't even attempted to bother her. He'd pulled up a chair from one of the computer-desks without making a sound and had been watching quietly ever since.

As absorbed in the task of trying to comprehend the scouter's mechanism as she was today, his observing presence hadn't really bugged her so far. By now, though, she was beginning to wonder if she shouldn't try to get him to leave. It started to feel like she was being checked on and laughed at for struggling as she did. When she passed Vegeta a glance over her right shoulder she couldn't see anything indicating such a thing in his expression, though. He was wearing his tattered blue suit with his boots, but without the gloves and armor. He didn't even notice she was looking in his direction. He seemed more absorbed in her calculations than she was at present time.

Confused, Bulma returned to her calculations… this had to work in some way.

It was nearing two o'clock. While Vegeta would normally have started his training, he was still sitting in the lab quietly, watching Bulma's progress. Or rather, the lack thereof…

"Woman…"

He broke the silence gruffly, but his voice had a soft ring to it, and it lacked the force it usually held.

"What?!" Bulma snapped, turning around to him.

She'd been working on the same calculations over and over again since early morning and it was beginning to show. Despite her resolution not to show it to Vegeta, her eyes had started to swim with tears, swim with her frustration at having been trying so hard and not having reached _anything_ remotely worthwhile.

Vegeta stood up and bend over the table, picking up the scouter.

"These wires have been infringed, haven't they?"

Bulma looked shocked, but Vegeta wasn't waiting for an answer. He took her pen and started drawing a schematic scouter below her calculations. He even specified the use of various wires and transmitters. The sketch was as professional as her father would make one.

"This is how it's supposed to look."

He sat back on his chair and looked at her expectantly.

She sent him a disbelieving smile and shook her head.

"Sometimes you're just too much."

Grinning, she went to work. The saiyan prince gave no response and merely tucked his knees up to his chin, watching her hand move across the paper silently.

"Done!" Bulma exclaimed in ten minutes' time. Beaming, she turned to her savior.

"I don't know what's made you so lenient today, but thank you, Vegeta. You really helped me out here."

Everyone's favorite saiyan-prince made that non-committal "Hn"-sound he often makes when out of words. Bulma winked.

"I'll tell mom she needs to cook plenty of meat for you tonight."

"Hmph. There's no need for such excess. You humans really make a big deal out of **everything**."

And with these words, he stormed off.

The Capsule Corporation heiress just smiled. That man always knew to surprise you…

___________________________________________________________________________

Gohan was busy putting on his Namek outfit; shoes that seemed braided from some kind of wood-pulp, possibly from the Ajissa trees that used to give Namek its beauty, and a blue suit with red wristbands and a red band around his middle, which all seemed to be made from a sturdy kind of cotton. He didn't want to go and meet Piccolo in his human wear; what if he'd touched down so nearby because he felt it high time for Gohan to train up a bit?

Of course, Gohan was bright enough to make sure his mom didn't get to see what clothes he'd decided to put on.

He'd gone to her earlier that afternoon with two finished essays and much to his dismay, was sent back to his room with more homework. But after finishing both the mathematics homework she'd set him as the English assignment, she couldn't help but agree that her boy had worked hard that day and that he was free to play outside until dinner.

The black-haired boy had run out of the house, waving his mom bye, and had then sneaked into his bedroom again to change clothing.

Exactly a quarter past four, the child flew out of his bedroom window. 'Here comes, Piccolo!'

___________________________________________________________________________

"Hey dad, you _may_ want to check your desk in the lab…" Bulma started playfully when her father returned from his conference. He hung his brown waistcoat over the nearest chair while looking at his daughter in awe.

"You mean –?"

His daughter just smiled mischievously, her blue eyes twinkling. And Dr. Briefs ran past her without another word.

She giggled, putting a strand of silky blue hair, which had now past shoulder-length, behind her ear. At least someone was pleased.

But she wondered what had changed Vegeta's mind all of a sudden, and what he'd wanted to achieve by helping her out? Had she done the right thing, not informing about why he'd had a change of heart about revealing some of his technology? He'd looked so upset when he stormed off… Oh well… it'd be all right. He'd cheer up at dinner tonight after seeing all the different kinds of meat her mom would make!

___________________________________________________________________________

"PICCOLO!"

The green man opened his eyes at last. He had been lost in deep meditation. It had been the third time the child had called his name.

"Gohan?" he asked, still slightly disorientated.

"Yup, here I am!" the young boy said, practically sparkling with enthusiasm.

"So what are we gonna do?"

"Gonna … do?"

"Yeah! Are you going to train me?"

"How do you mean?"

Gohan frowned. Now he was the one feeling disorientated.

"What do you mean 'how do I mean' Piccolo? Mister Piccolo? I thought you were meditating so near to my house 'cause you wanted me to come to you for some special training or something."

His shoulders had slumped and he was now studying several boulders on the ground, clearly suffering from some form of deep sadness and disappointment.

Piccolo, however, had by now caught up with the idea and started to find the perspective severely appealing.

A sparring match with the kid, huh? That didn't sound bad… that didn't sound bad at all.

He stood up with a slant smile on his face that slightly betrayed his canine. His black eyes had a glint to them and his green skin looked brighter than it had before somehow.

"Let's do it, kid. You make the first move. Let's see if you can still catch me off-guard after having spent so much time with your nose in the books."

When Gohan looked up he looked surprised at first, but then a grin just like his teacher's spread across his young face, too.

"Let's do it, then."

Gohan charged, jumping towards Piccolo with his right fist protruded, steadying himself in the air with his ki. But before his knuckles could touch flesh, the Namekian warrior vanished.

He calmed his mind and felt his surroundings. Directly above him! He evaded the blast Piccolo shot at him and soared upwards into the sky, charging again. He punched and kicked with all his might, but Piccolo managed to block his every move and there were no openings. As his resolution stumbled into a sense of incompetence, his attacks weakened. And before he could even become aware of it, his teacher had sent him flying into the earth with a savage kick to his back.

"Are you giving up? You're not putting your heart into it. I know you can do much better, Gohan," the Namek egged his half-breed student on.

"I'm not giving up. You and dad never give up, either!"

Whatever nerve Piccolo had hit; it had definitely worked. The child's attacks had strengthened considerably, and the harder the match became, the more both his strength as enjoyment seemed to grow.

After Gohan had hit him with a Masenko-wave, Piccolo rewarded his student by taking his own disadvantages away. He took his turban and cloak off; clothing he trained with because of the extra weight and therefore, strain, it put him under. Hereby he acknowledged the child as a worthy enough opponent to fight with on full power.

Gohan smiled proudly, did a small power-up to show his master he was taking the match seriously too, and went at him again. The two were trading blows and kicks evenly now. Both were looking like they'd missed this.

___________________________________________________________________________

The flaring ki of both the Namek and Kakarot's offspring disturbed Vegeta in his training. So Piccolo had sought the kid out to spar? Didn't the moron have anything better to do than entertain a child?

_Angry, he started preparing a__ Kamehameha__-blast. Hah, just kidding! Sorry, but I just couldn't resist such an opportunity ;). _

Angry, he started gathering ki in his palm until he'd formed a white ball of pure energy. He threw it into the air and then flew towards where the ball of energy was heading, just to try and see if he could catch it without damage to himself. This soon proved a challenging-enough game for the saiyan prince to continue without being bothered by the other high ki-levels on the planet. Satisfied, he carried on training like this for the rest of the afternoon.

___________________________________________________________________________

Time had gone by way too fast. He'd had loads of fun training with Piccolo again, but now dinner was nearing and his mom would kill him if he wouldn't be on time.

He was washing up in a river while Piccolo watched quietly. It wasn't as if he could go to dinner looking so filthy and beaten up. He didn't have any bruises on his face though, so he'd be fine if he'd just get the dirt off of him and manage to put his regular clothes on unnoticed.

"Hey Piccolo, will it be okay if I visit you and Dende at Bulma's place tomorrow? I have to finish my homework first, but I think I can manage before four at least. Then we'll almost have two whole hours!"

"Heh. Sure kid. Pleasure's all mine. Dende'll be pleased; he hasn't seen you for over a month now, isn't it?"

"Yeah, that's probably about it," Gohan said shyly, scratching the back of his head with his right hand characteristically. "It's a shame my mom can be so strict, I really wish I could come by more often."

"Well, nothing to do about it, kid. We'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah…" Gohan smiled. "See ya!" And he flew off.

___________________________________________________________________________

Dinner didn't go as Bulma had foreseen it. It went in quite the opposite direction of what she had been intending, actually.

"What the HELL is this supposed to be, woman?!" Vegeta demanded as he slammed his hand against the table, sending the duck and reindeer respectively flying off their plates.

"Didn't I tell you this afternoon? I arranged for mom to cook extra meat, because I know you like it and I wanted to thank you for helping me and dad out."

She looked at him with a mixture of confusion and mild annoyance that only made the situation worse.

"So you thought to treat me like a child, rewarding me with some sweet after having showed behavior you approve of? Is that it?! I am not your PET, woman. I will not be trained to follow orders or adopt mannerisms you enjoy."

After this thundering speech, Vegeta seemed to choke in his search for more words that could possibly express the profound profanity she was inflicting upon him.

His eyes wandered in their sockets, but he didn't seem to find them. He stood up, leaving the table with pursed lips. His dark features seemed unusually white in the diffuse light from the lamp that, attached to the ceiling, shone down upon the dinner-table.

"Oh my," Bunny exclaimed, biting on a napkin. Bulma just looked shocked. And Mr. Briefs had been locked inside his lab since his return from the conference.

___________________________________________________________________________

"So I can't even properly THANK YOU for something now? When does it ever get through that thick skull of yours, Vegeta? I'm not trying to control you! None of us here are! It's that damned Frieza again. And don't you even try denying it!"

Tears were streaming down Bulma's face. She stood in the opened door of Vegeta's bedroom. He'd sat down on his bed there only minutes ago. Bunny was picking the fallen meat off the floor downstairs, sniffling quietly.

"Well? Do you have something to say for yourself? You made my mom cry, you know."

Despite the heavy storm of emotion that was raging inside of her and the angry tears that were still pouring down her cheeks, she looked stern. Her arms crossing themselves across her chest helped emphasize that particularity.

Vegeta seemed to shrink somehow. His eyes were dead-set on the white closet in front of him, and his fists were pinching the sheet they were holding onto relentlessly.

"I am not trying to make you behave a certain way, Vegeta. Sure, I don't think it'd hurt you much if you'd be more polite to people, but I'm not trying anything. Just THINK for a moment. I DROPPED the topic of the scouter, remember? You chose to get back into it yourself. Don't start blaming me because you regret your own course of action."

The prince's fists released the sheet. He seemed to be calming down somewhat.

"I don't."

Bulma had just thought of several other things she could say to him and was on the verge of starting with one of the new arguments she'd thought up, defending her case, so she made a strange gurgle-sound when he suddenly spoke.

"You don't what?"

"Regret it."

Understanding seemed to dawn on Bulma. She smiled awkwardly.

"Let's just drop this, Vegeta. Wanna come back to dinner?"

He nodded.

She was beyond herself from surprise, but she was keen enough not to show even a smidge of it. "Come on, then."

Bunny couldn't possibly have beamed up at both Vegeta as Bulma more brightly than she did when they returned for dinner.


	9. History through a Dream

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

**Author's Notes:** This is a short chapter in comparison. Its main function is to reveal another aspect of Vegeta's past, but I consider it of extreme relevance to the story and to the character-development of Vegeta. This chapter takes place almost directly after the last one (at night/in the morning), and the next one (Chapter 10: Trouble for Gohan) will pick up where this one leaves off.  
Initially I wanted to put the Gohan-storyline and the dream-storyline that explains a bit more regarding Vegeta's past and his reactions to things in a single chapter nine, but while writing, I felt those storylines were getting in each other's way. Chapter 10 is still in the making and will feature the promised visit to Capsule Corp from Gohan after finishing his homework and interactions between everyone's favorite couple ;-).

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Chapter 9: History through a Dream

"But it felt just like he was fifteen again; left for dead on a planet unfamiliar to him after a mission with Frieza's two faithful minions Zarbon and Dodoria.

Just Frieza's idea of playing a little joke on his pet-monkey.

Sullen and humiliated, he had lain there for weeks. His temperature had dropped severely, even on a planet with a temperature over 130 degrees Fahrenheit, and he'd been fighting for breath constantly.

Somehow he'd managed to find some food and get it in his system, but he'd hardly known why he went through the trouble."

Languid eyes focused on the hands that were clawing their way through the deep-red sand. The sun was burning and the boy was leaving a trail of blood in his wake. He was no more than five feet tall, although the black hair that stood on top of his head like a large flame was good for making him look two heads taller. A wound to his stomach was bleeding ferociously. He was shivering. But he had a goal to reach: the shade of trees that would protect him from the destructive rays of this planet's sun. His immune-system was severely weakened. He wouldn't be able to withstand the infra-red much longer. This planet missed out on atmospheric protection. He hadn't been supposed to be here for more than three days. This was wrong. It was all wrong. He had to reach the shade…

He lost consciousness as soon as his head entered the sheltering shade. His deep-brown tail lay smouldering in the heat, twitching slightly. The teenage child couldn't possibly look more out of place, lying there in his royal blue suit and tattered armor. One of the protective shoulder-pads was missing: it had probably been broken in battle.

The sky was a sickening shade of purple. It was as if the tyrant that ruled his life was everywhere around him. There was no escape. He was always there. Watching.

One of the boy's fists started clawing in the sand again. He was coming to. Crawling, he managed to get himself completely covered by the shade.

He lost consciousness again, but just briefly this time. After a minute's passing he started forcing his body forwards again. Focusing all his remaining strength in his arms, he pulled himself further towards the trees. His limp legs followed the movements of his arms and torso without any will of their own, dragging along the sand. At last, he reached his goal and managed to rest his head against a tree. He fell asleep instantly.

The days of lying there became weeks. All he managed to get for nutrition were the fruits hanging in the trees. And getting to those fruits cost so much over-exertion that he felt even hungrier and more dehydrated after he ate them.

His saiyan-system had started turning against him from food-deprivation. His wound had started infecting. His body was weakening on a daily basis, and he had no feeling in his legs.

Damn Zarbon and Dodoria. Damn Frieza.

"Frieza thought it would be a good... test for you to handle things here yourself. Something about royal character-building. We'll see you later, Vegeta... or not."

Laughing, Zarbon had flown away with Dodoria in his wake. He'd sent blasts after them, but to no avail.

They'd taken him to this planet. They'd let him do all the work, not wishing to get their hands dirty.

A population of ten million. Half-civilized villages. Fields filled with growing vegetables, meadows filled with grazing creatures… Everything that could remind of life they'd made him destroy. Everything that could protect him from the infra-red or nourish him was gone. All he had were a small patch of woodland and its fruits, and the dew that formed on their leaves at dawn. There was nothing else. Nothing. And the trees were withering in the heat, their life fading. And his body was growing cold. His life, fading.

His eyes opened slowly. It was that taunting face again. He would take him. Again. And there was nothing he could do about it.

"So, my sweet prince... still alive then, huh? I had a bet running with dear Zarbon that you would last a month. You did. I'm so ..proud.. of you."

A lilac hand grasped the boy's right wrist, pulling the teenager's body upwards by his arm. Vegeta moaned.

"Sorry, does that hurt?" Frieza snickered.

He let go and Vegeta fell to the ground again, his knees giving way underneath him.

"Oh my, would you look at that Dodoria? It seems our little prince has lost use of his legs."

"Heh, sure looks like it."

"Take him to the ship."

"Sure."

The pink blob took a tuft of his black hair in hand and dragged the boy after him, as if he was dragging a jute sack of bricks instead of a person. And the young saiyan prince's deep-brown tail had become red with sand. Red as the blood that gored his armor.

"What are the statistics, Appule? Why hasn't he woken up?"

"He's comatose, Lord Frieza. We had him taken out of the regeneration-tank because it did all it could. We're tube-feeding him, but his body is rejecting the nutrition. His legs should no longer be paralyzed, as the tank healed the nerve that was causing that predicament, but we can't be sure about his ability to use his legs until after he wakes up. His body's too weak."

"See to it that he wakes up. If his legs will remain paralyzed, I'll take the liberty to put him out of his misery. I have no use for a cripple saiyan."

"As you please, sir."

A translucent tube was pouring a yellowish fluid into Vegeta's stomach through his nose and another one was pouring moist directly into his veins. But tube-feeding didn't do enough for a saiyan metabolism that had already taken quite a blow and Frieza's doctors were continuously on guard for the prince's failing breathing. Every time the machines detected an abnormality in his breathing they brought out a breathing-mask again until it returned to normal. They couldn't keep it on 24/7: it wouldn't fit with the tube underneath it, and Vegeta's life depended on that tube more so than anything else.

It would've been easier if they could have just let him stay in the regeneration-tank, but despite the amazing technology of those tanks, it couldn't save a malnourished person. He would die a cruel death in the healing fluids of that enclosed space in less than an hour. The bet Frieza had decided on was, least to say, a very close-call.

"Get those wires or whatever they are **off** me, Nappa. Get them **off**, now."

Charcoal eyes, burning with fever, had opened. The prince's loyal guard had been sitting on his bedside. It was amazing that he'd gotten away with it: he was stained with blood and dirt and it looked like he'd just returned from a mission. But then again, the entrance to Vegeta's room seemed to be blasted open and there was an unconscious body besides the bed, too.

Nappa's bald head shone just as feverishly as Vegeta's whole demeanor did. He was looking at his prodigy in awe, shocked that he'd woken up.

"**NOW!**"

Blue ki started to emanate from Vegeta, licking his body like a cold flame.

"I – I don't know how…"

But as a savior in need, the unconscious person regained consciousness. He was purple and his whole body was covered with yellow, leopard-like spots, and he was releasing the saiyan prince from the infusion and the stomach-tube that shackled him.

Without another word, Vegeta got up and strode past both of them. Appule felt relieved. The prince could walk, which meant he would not be the target of vengeance on Lord Frieza's behalf for having rendered his pet-toy useless. Nappa just stared.

Within seconds, Vegeta stormed into the hall where Frieza, King Cold, Zarbon and Dodoria were enjoying a festive dinner overloaded with wine.

"I will have real food and I'll have it now."

Those present at the dining table stared at him in complete surprise at first. But as always, Frieza decided on the course of action on his ship, so he was the one to break the silence.

"My, my, Vegeta, what an entrance. Do come in and enjoy some lovely dinner with us. I am impressed with your survival, you know.  
Yesterday's statistics said you were definitely a goner, and judging by the explosion we heard on the ship earlier your monkey buddy heard about that too after he returned. But then again, you saiyans **are** hard to extinguish… but that's always the issue with vermin."

"Well spoken, my son. I know exactly what you're talking about. On one of my planets I'd been making some people work on a wonderful grape-garden to develop the best wine available in our Empire, and it was all ruined by weeds and vermin. Quite remarkable."

The fifteen-year-old Vegeta didn't bother with the jabbering of the Colds. He took a seat on the same side of the table as Dodoria was at, but made sure to leave a seat empty between the two of them. Frieza was sitting at the other end of the table, his father on one side and Zarbon on the other. Vegeta took a plate and simply put an entire creature on it. It looked pretty much like a strange cross between a duck and an eagle. The food-deprived saiyan didn't seem to take notice of such details, though: his instincts told him he needed meat. He'd smelt meat and crashed the dinner-party. And he was having it. It was plain survival instinct.

After he finished it, the feverish glow faded from his eyes. The prince looked calmer, somehow. More composed. The dark circles underneath his eyelids spoke volumes, though.

Just when he wanted to reach across the table for something else, Frieza stopped him.

"Tut-tut, not so fast, my little prince. You'll have to earn your share, you know."

Vegeta gritted his teeth. With eyes filled with disdain, he looked at the lizard's hand over his own, preventing it from taking more food from the table. He was not releasing it.

"There's a child I want you to torture. It's of vital importance that the child speaks of the true nature of his parent's lacking loyalty to my Empire. Bring me the information and you'll eat once I verify its truth. Make sure not to kill it, though. If you prove to be lacking in skills it might convince you of a lie and when it dies with the real information it would cause a definite… inconvenience. Isn't that right, father?"

"Very true indeed, my son, very true indeed."

The teenage prince kept his eyes trained on the monster's hand touching his, calculating his position in sheer disgust.

"Where is the child located?"

"Just around the corner in Cell 3B. You'll know where to find it: didn't you spend a decent time locked in there yourself?"

Vegeta's eyes shot up to look directly into his, spitting fire.

"My my, no reason to look at me like that, Vegeta. You've become quite the asset to my cause, there'll be no need for such measures again if you just stay out of those – what should I call them – "rebellious phases" of yours."

His eyes had travelled to his pinned hand again. He was trying to move it, but it wouldn't budge for even a micro-inch. He looked at his tormentor again. Frieza was smiling broadly.

"I'll be questioning the child in Cell 3B. I'll return with correct information. Once you verify it, I'll be expecting what I just ate in at least tenfold. If you don't give me that, I might not even have the strength for being either an asset or a rebellious soldier."

The royal saiyan looked at the past overlord of his race fiercely.

"And there's nothing in between, is there, prince Vegeta?"

"Nothing."

Frieza smiled even more broadly than he'd done before, and released Vegeta's hand. The saiyan was gone before he could say another word.

Vegeta woke up in the present again, soaking in sweat. He was lying underneath strange, soft sheets in an incredibly light atmosphere. He turned his head and looked through his bedroom-window. Capsule Corporation. Earth. Of course.

His head touched the cushion again, exhausted from the history he'd just found himself living through again in his sleep.

He'd come to terms with it, he'd even made use of the advantages it gave him, but it was the greatest humiliation Frieza had equipped him with. He would be confronted with it every single day of his life. His growth-spurt should have taken place between his fifteenth and seventeenth birthday. But Frieza had taken his time shaping his pet saiyan. And he'd shaped him, all right. After those events, his height hadn't increased with more than three inches.


	10. Trouble for Gohan

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

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Chapter 10: Trouble for Gohan

Bunny was pleased. She'd finally convinced her daughter to come with her to the new pastry-shop she'd discovered. Of course, telling her daughter that the shop was situated beside a jeweler _did_ pay off. All it took after that was promising they'd pay the jeweler a visit, too.

Bulma was wearing her aqua hair in a single braid. Her hair had gotten long enough for that by now, and it really brought out her facial features in a positive sense. A couple of strands from her lengthening pony sprang out playfully and she'd put a very light touch of rouge on her cheeks. She was wearing a pink halter-top with a sky-blue long-sleeve shirt underneath it, complemented by a pink mini-skirt, blue jeans and boots.

Many a guy whistled as she passed with her mom at her side, but she held her chin up high and walked by them with dignity. Her blonde mother knew better, though. She _loved_ the attention and being found so attractive, and she felt like she earned it, too.

But when a road-pirate almost ran over her mother on the pavement while maneuvering to escape the police, the diva showed those guys a side of her they hadn't seen coming.

"What the HELL do you think you're doing, mister?!"

She'd grabbed the brown-haired earthling by the scruff of his coat. He ought to be shrugging her off and escaping, and he **could**, but he was simply too shocked to protest.

"Do you notice these grey blocks of concrete we're standing on right now? Do you notice it's a bit higher and made of a lighter color than the road you were on earlier? It's called a PAVEMENT, mister! And though this may surprise you: IT'S NOT INTENDED FOR PEOPLE DRIVING CARS!" Bulma sprayed the last sentence in the would-be criminal-on-the-loose's face.

A police-car arrived and a chubby, stubbly, middle-aged man stepped out.

"Eh, Miss Briefs, isn't it? Thank you for holding him up for us, I never knew you were capable of such a thing. We'll take it from here," the officer spoke, clanking with his cuffs.

"Sure, here you go," Bulma said awkwardly, releasing the man.

Another policeman came out of the car, holding something of a necklace in hands.

"Miss Briefs, I saw what you did back there. Truly tremendous handiwork. Quite heroic, I'd say. That's why I want to reward you with this medal on behalf of the whole West City police department. We wouldn't know what to do without the technology your company has given us, and now this – too…"

The young man sniffled and wiped a tear away as he handed Bulma the medal.

Bulma's eyes were twitching somewhat with unease and embarrassment, but she smiled and composed herself. It was only natural for people to worship her…

"It's nothing, don't worry about it. Thanks a lot for this…"

When Bulma and Bunny were watching the pastry-shop's collection of decorated cupcakes, Bunny smiled brightly at her daughter and at the medal shining on her chest.

"Such an eventful morning."

Bulma laughed.

___________________________________________________________________________

Vegeta was dressing. Since he slept in the navy blue fabric of his suit, this meant he was busy putting on his boots, gloves and armor. He didn't have a problem with his body odor because he swam in water so frequently while training, clothes and all.

"Tsk."

He flinched and pulled the glove he'd just put on his right hand off again. A stain of blood had now formed on the white fabric where his wrist and hand-palm had gone in.

With a curse he noticed the small trickles of blood cascading from his palm. He'd made too much of a fist in his sleep and had cut himself with the pressure. Damn.

The left glove stayed lonesome behind in his room. Vegeta went to the nearest bathroom to fresh up. He washed his face and rinsed his hand off the blood, then proceeded to make a sink-bath for his blood-stained glove by putting in the basin plug, hand-soap and a lot of hot water. The water mingled with the blood and turned its own shade of red instantly.

A muscle contracted at the corner of his mouth. A twitch of discomfort. He looked up into the mirror, facing his own reflection. He had dark rings under his eyes, and somehow he felt the icy monster that had shaped him was looking back at him through his own eyes, the onyx mingling with ruby. He shook his head. His mind was playing tricks on him. This just hadn't been his best dream – or the best part of his life – to experience so vividly.

His eyes wavered to his glove floating in its pool of blood again. Revolting. Normally it wouldn't be, normally beheaded people and meadows filled with blood wouldn't even be, but just… just not now.

He'd go see what the woman was up to and get around to cleaning the damned glove later.

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"I'll go and make some hot buns for everyone for breakfast, sweetie. Want to join me?" the blonde woman asked her blue-haired daughter as they entered the compound again after their shopping-adventure.

"No thanks mom, I think I'll go sunbathe for a bit – it's not too hot but there's a very mild warmth in the air – do you feel it? I'm going to soak it in: my skin will look great, especially with some of the new jewelry I got, and a girl can't skip out on an opportunity to be pretty!"

"Oh honey, you have no need of that," Bunny waved it away. "But have fun then. Make sure to get to those buns while they're still warm! Or no, I'll bring you some."

And Bunny walked away, her hips swaying.

Just that instant was chosen by the saiyan prince to come walking out of the house. He gritted his teeth as the ditz touched his arm familiarly and greeted him, telling him something about hot buns and shouting something about bringing them over when he persistently walked on.

The woman was wearing her hair in a braid, she was wearing vulgarly extravagant clothes and it looked like she had something silver shining on her chest. She was walking in the direction of the pool, and in a bit of a higher pace than she usually preferred to walk. It was obvious she'd spotted the saiyan and wished to avoid him. But he wasn't going to let her get away that easily. Besides, she prided herself too often on being smarter than she was composing herself right now. Being this obvious was never a sign of intelligence.

Bulma shrieked as Vegeta appeared in front of her without a single warning. She almost fell against him in the process, but he put her back on her feet with the touch of a single finger on her forehead. Bulma rubbed the place he'd touched her, noticing his touch had been a source of warmth, not the cold sensation of the spandex-like material of his gloves. She checked and saw he wasn't wearing them. How peculiar.

Vegeta was looking at the medal that hung around her neck with a blue ribbon. There was something engraved on the flat circle of silver: 'Special Services to the West City Police Department'. His eyebrows shot up.

"You've provided 'special services' to the human police department of this city? What did you do? Tell them how to dress and how to eat donuts without spilling?"

The saiyan prince burst out laughing. His laugh sounded hollow and he still looked tired, but this boost of mockery was definitely what he needed to lighten his spirits.

Capsule Corp's heiress 'hmphed' high-heartedly and put her hands on her hips.

"I happen to have received this medal because I stopped a criminal this morning. Without me, that man would still be running loose, murdering without second thought."

Bulma had altered the story a bit to her benefit. Just a bit. And Vegeta would do well to get a bit more respect for the likes of her anyway! What was he thinking? He was ruining her precious sun-time! Unforgivable. Stupid monkey…

"Murdering what? Ants? Or did you stop a child killing a spider? I thought you enjoyed killing those creatures yourself, too, but oh well… or did someone try catching a butterfly for their collection and killed it? I don't see why an authority would want to lock someone for something like that, but this place **is** crazy: I'd believe it of you humans. So, which was it?"

"Don't insinuate things like that, Vegeta. It was a dangerous man. He almost killed my mother; I stepped in just in time. And when I told him what I thought of it he backed off soon enough."

"Hah well, can't blame him if he heard you shrieking."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Nothing in particular, woman. But would you just get over yourself. You wouldn't be able to stop a killer. You probably shrieked at some street-kid who wanted to steal your mother's bag and scared the living daylights out of him."

"My mom was almost trampled this morning and -!"

"Trampled? Now now, wait a second, I thought you said she was almost **killed**. Did a dinosaur step on her? They seem to have de-flattened her all right," Vegeta smiled, amused.

"You don't know what happened. You weren't there."

"I'm starting to wish I was. I would love to see that street-kid who tried to steal your mother's bag by trampling her, which was probably because he was fleeing from a retailer to begin with and wasn't even out for your mom's bag, and then to see you getting all heroic by screaming until he lost consciousness. Told the police you knocked him out?"

"I've had quite enough of this, Vegeta. If I had it all on videotape, I would love to show you proof. But the thing is: the police wouldn't have given me this medal if I hadn't provided an actual service to them by helping them imprison an actual criminal. So you'll just have to deal with me being more capable of things than you like to believe."

Vegeta's shoulders were shaking with laughter. This woman was unbelievable.

"My sincerest apologies, woman. I should've realized Captain Ginyu got you when he was a **frog** because you were so **capable**. You did it on **purpose**. Probably something to do with you researching the anatomy of frogs with that bright mind of yours."

Bulma whitened.

"When did you hear about my trouble with Ginyu on Namek?"

"Overheard Kakarot's brat and his Namekian friend when he was here. Lovely story. I'd advise you to stay clear of that pond of yours, though, woman – according to the healing-kid our little Captain is living there with his own Frog Force – waiting to take your body."

That idea grossed Bulma out so much that she completely lost her composure and forgot about her resolution to make Vegeta respect her a bit more. She shrieked with a high pitch that completely ruined the saiyan's eardrums.

"Stop teasing me like that Vegeta! That freak is not coming into my body again!"

"By what means?"

"By calling a company that exterminates vermin with poison – **today**."

Bulma was already stomping off towards a phone when Vegeta called her back.

"Couldn't you just kill him with your bare hands, or use your medal?"

But Vegeta'd won the battle: the turquoise-haired Capsule Corp heiress just mumbled something about not wanting to get her pretty hands dirty and ran off to make sure the threat to her beautiful mind and body was disposed off as soon as possible.

___________________________________________________________________________

After Bulma had disappeared into the house, Vegeta had flown off to train. He'd found another clearing in a wood with a lake and used it as his standard training-grounds. But it didn't take long for the saiyan prince to discover that he couldn't concentrate. His mind kept traveling elsewhere and in the end, it just mulled down to swimming underwater and playing control-games with his ki. It didn't take very long until he'd had enough of it, and he flew back to the compound to settle in his arrogated arm-chair in the living room.

___________________________________________________________________________

Bulma stomped into the living room in a huff and let herself fall onto the couch. She resumed to lying down there, stretched, and put her arms under her head. It was that moment that she realized Vegeta was in the room, too. He looked at her questioningly. She shrugged.

"Stupid company won't come for at least another week. Say they're 'busy'."

Vegeta sniggered.

"It's not as if you're in any danger if you just stay clear of him."

"Speak for yourself."

"I can handle him whether I stay clear of that pond or not."

"Hmph."

The aqua-haired beauty closed her eyes, annoyed. But the smell coming from the kitchen reminded her of something.

"Oy mom, when will the buns be ready? Are they cinnamon?!"

Mrs. Briefs came running into the living room, smiling brightly and a couple of yellow oven-mitts on her hands.

"They'll be ready in just five short minutes sweeties. Be patient," she winked. The wink had been directed at Vegeta though, and he hadn't missed out on her use of sweetie**s** either.

"Your mother is crazy," he told Bulma when her mom had entered the kitchen again.

"Well sure she is, but she cooks well and cares a lot about things," Bulma replied nonchalantly.

She had put a magazine over her head. Apparently the company not being able to come yet and the sense of a threat looming over her had stumped her. Normally saying something like that would have instigated an argument, and a good one at that.

They sat in silence until Bunny came running with a platter of steaming cinnamon buns. She smiled expectantly and her daughter put the magazine off her head and sat up.

"They look brilliant, mom," she said, grabbing one.

"I'm glad they do, honey. Well, enjoy them, the two of you!" And she walked away again, taking another platter of buns from the counter in the kitchen and leaving with them through another door. She was probably going to take them to her husband.

Vegeta stretched out his right hand to grab one too. While he was on his way he suddenly noticed his hand had started bleeding again. Must've been the water's doing. He was sure it'd close again and dry in no more than ten minutes, but for now, it was an inconvenience he hadn't counted on. He quickly retracted his hand and took one with his left, but it was too late: the woman had already noticed and was looking at him in shock.

"You hurt your hand."

The saiyan rolled his eyes.

"So?"

"Did you do that while training?"

"None of your business."

"Shouldn't you put a bandage around it or something, to stop the bleeding?"

"It'll stop by itself. The only reason it opened is because I've been in the water."

"Yeah, but if you leave it open bacteria will be able to get in and-"

"Shut up!"

"Geese, I'm only trying to help!"

"Don't."

And they sat and ate cinnamon buns in an agitated silence the next hour.

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Gohan was glad. He'd started on his homework really early this morning. He'd seen the sunrise through his bedroom window when he was already halfway through his first assignment. And by now, he'd almost finished all the work his mother could possibly set him.

She'd noticed he was working so diligently earlier that day when she brought him a glass of orange juice. When she asked him about it he'd laid the grounds for his resolution to get out of the house early today: he'd said he really wanted to find an animal that had been vividly described in his biology book, but the book said it could take a whole afternoon before you found it. So he really wanted to go outside as soon as possible so he could study it.

Chi-Chi had been in awe when she heard her son's story and was immediately supportive of his resolution. Who would've known: her little boy was going to be a biologist, not an orthopedist! Maybe he would become something of a vet: he loved animals so much… She should've seen this coming when her father had given him that book on insects when he was four. He'd spent hours reading about them and kept telling his parents the cicadas lived underground for so long and asking them how a life like that would be.

When Gohan walked out of his room Chi-Chi beamed down at him.

"There you are, all done. My little genius. Are you ready? Do you need anything for your excursion? Some food, and maybe some bait for the animal?"

"Could I get some oranges, mom? The wombat I'm going to look for really likes orange-skin."

"Of course you can!" And Chi-Chi gave him an armful of oranges under which her son could hardly be discerned. "Go catch 'em, son!"

"Yeah… thanks mom. Bye!"

And Gohan flew out of the house, holding onto the oranges more with his ki than with his arms. Chi-Chi waved him goodbye proudly. That was **her** boy, all right.

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Bunny had joined Vegeta and Bulma in a light-hearted attempt to 'cheer them up'. She'd pulled up a wooden chair with a blue cushion as Bulma had conquered the entirety of the couch and was sipping from a ceramic cup filled with melon-tea.

"I have to say melon is my second-favorite taste. When I don't feel like the sweetness of peach it's great and mild and just lovely. Don't you think so too, sweetie?"

"Ugh sure, whatever mom."

Vegeta suddenly tensed and stood up, looking sideways through the window.

"What's Kakarot's brat doing here?"

"Gohan's here? You sure?"

"He just touched down in the courtyard. He's with Piccolo and his other green friend. Damn that kid, always thinking he can just come over here whenever he pleases."

"Well he **can**, Vegeta. That's not something that's up to you."

But Bunny was the one standing up now.

"So little Gohan's here? How **lovely**! I'll go bake him chocolate-chip cookies!"

And she was off again.

Vegeta sighed and sat down again, resigning to not moving from his chair.

Bulma didn't seem to feel like moving either. She'd greet Gohan whenever he'd come in.

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"So you gave that whole batch of oranges to a sable-tooth tiger you used to be friends with?"

"Well I did at first, but he's on a meat-diet and he didn't seem to feel like trying anything new; nor did the T-rex that always chased me on that island. But I gave some to Icarus and he really liked it, I ate a couple myself and I left the rest of it in the woods for other animals that might want them," Gohan smiled happily.

"That's amazing, Gohan. But don't you feel a bit bad for lying to your mom about that wombat?" Dende asked carefully.

"Well, technically, it's not **really** a lie: there are a lot of things about a species of wombats that's really rare and has lots of hair in my book, and I **did** come across a wombat when I had an hour left to play on Mount Paoz the other week. It's really cute and it **is** supposed to take really long for you to find one, but it just came to me and now we're friends."

"I don't think I'd dare to tell something like that to go somewhere."

Gohan blushed.

"Do you think I shouldn't have?"

"No, I'm really glad you came! This is a great place to be, but I really miss you a lot, Gohan."

Now it was Dende's time to blush.

"There's just a lot that I don't dare – I mean – I hardly dare to do anything," Dende admitted.

"Aw don't worry about that – that's just because you don't have animals to befriend on Namek! I wouldn't dare to do half the things I do if it wasn't for Icarus supporting me."

"It's great to have such friends."

Both boys smiled at each other. Piccolo was looking at them from a couple of yards away, shaking his head. The world those two children lived in was hard to comprehend for him, at times. But he was glad they seemed to have found such alike souls and had bonded over their shared shyness, gentleness and young wisdom. He just didn't get how two children could be like that. But then again, their history was very different from his own.

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"Gohan, there you are!"

"Oh hi Mrs. Briefs. I was just visiting Dende and Piccolo."

"Yes, that sweet Vegeta noticed you were here and told us, so I baked you cookies."

Gohan was handed a large tin-can filled with freshly baked cookies. He blushed deeply.

"Thanks a **lot**, Bulma's mom."

"No problem, sweetie. And if you want or need anything else – just come in the kitchen and ask for it. It's great to have you here."

"I'll remember it, thanks."

Mrs. Briefs stroked his black, silky hair for a second and then turned to walk back to the house. Gohan opened the tin-can.

"Chocolate-chip!" he exclaimed. And he began stuffing his face. Dende laughed heartily.

___________________________________________________________________________

The first half of the afternoon passed by peacefully. After the hot buns, Bunny took it as her responsibility to fill the platter in the living room up with sandwiches. She made sure Gohan was all set too and insisted on him staying for dinner. Gohan refused at first, explaining that his mom was expecting him home at dinnertime, which was exactly six o'clock in the Son-household, but when Mrs. Briefs offered to eat before that time, his resolve weakened. So when the dinner-table was being prepared, it was being set for six people. Of course Dende didn't really eat, but Gohan still insisted on having him at his side.

"It all looks delicious, Mrs. Briefs," Gohan complimented his host politely as he saw the bowls filled with vegetables, meat and rice she set on the table.

"Why I hope it **will** be delicious, I used my special cookbook."

"I'm sure it will, pumpkin," Dr. Briefs chipped in, trying to get on his wife's good-side.

Vegeta was annoyed with this turn of events. The Briefs family could be annoying enough to eat with by itself – so why, for Kami's sake, why did the brat have to be here to throw in this air of polite cheeriness?!

He'd just eat and pay as less attention to the other people dining as possible.

Having decided he was going to show his wife he **could** pay attention to his surroundings – and more particularly his family – Dr. Briefs tried his best to see if either his wife or his daughter was wearing anything new.

While he didn't notice Bulma's clothing which was most definitely new – he did notice a certain medal on her chest he was sure she hadn't possessed before.

"How did you acquire that medal, Bulma? I'm sure I haven't seen it before."

Bulma whitened and Bunny started recapping the story of that morning enthusiastically.

"Oh, Bulma and I had **such** an eventful morning. I was going to show her that lovely pastry-shop and she wanted to pay the jeweler a visit, and when we were heading towards the shop a young man in a car drove onto the pavement. I managed to jump away just in time. Now I didn't think it mattered much – I was all right – but Bulma became really protective of me and told the man there was a difference between the pavement and the road –".

Bunny paused for a moment, taking her time to giggle before she continued. Bulma had become extremely white by now and Vegeta had definitely lost his annoyance with the dinner-situation, smiling extravagantly.

"So she held that young man up by talking to him – he was too scared to leave – and then the police came and it turned out they had been chasing him for something. So they were really happy with my Bulma's actions and rewarded her with this wonderful medal. Isn't that nice?"

"That's wonderful. Well done, Bulma," Dr. Briefs said.

"That really **is** wonderful. A bit different from the version I heard this morning, though. Didn't you manage to ward a murderer off of your mother with your bare hands?" Vegeta started.

"What? You told Vegeta someone tried to **murder** your mom, Bulma?" Gohan asked surprised. Dende looked very shocked, too; not believing someone could lie so blatantly.

With all her intelligence, Bulma seemed at a loss for words. And worse: every person sitting at the table was looking at her. Well, every person except for her mom, who was busy putting food onto everyone's plates and humming cheerily.

"Vegeta was being annoying. I just wanted him to eat his words," Bulma at last decided on defending herself with matter-of-factly.

Dende and Gohan decided not to discuss with her about it and started on their glass of water and their meal respectively. Gohan complimented Mrs. Briefs again about it how it really **was** delicious, and the table became immersed into a not-too-heavy silence.

After a while, the two boys started to talk amongst each other about how life on Namek had been like for Dende before Frieza and his men came, and Gohan completely lost track of time and of everything else that went on around him. He missed out on the glaring-contest that had started between Vegeta and Bulma, on the shrugging and shaking their heads of Bulma's parents who were watching this, and on the various beeps of the clocks in the Briefs-household that would have told him he should have been getting home…

"Gohan! What on earth are you doing here? You were supposed to study the wombat in the mountains and woods that surround our house and to return before dinner."

The half-saiyan gulped. He should have paid attention! He was having so much fun with Dende, and now he'd never be able to leave his house again.

"I'm sorry mom. I found a wombat and I've studied it, but I was done early – and I really missed Dende. It's been a month since I've seen him. He's my **friend** mom!"

"That doesn't concern me. What concerns me is that you've been spending precious time you could have spent studying hanging around here and that you'll end up in the gutter this way!"

"But mom, I'd already done so much homework today! Can it really hurt that much to just take a break and come over here and play with my friends every once in a while?"

"Yes it **can**, so it's a **no** Gohan, you can forget it. You're coming home with me right this instant and you'll be strictly supervised from now on. No more 'playing outside', or at least not where I can't see you from my kitchen window. And that's my final decision."

Gohan stood up. "Sorry Dende. I'll at least get to see you when you're summoning Porunga, mom and me will come together then."

"Maybe I'll be brave and visit you before that, Gohan," Dende whispered. Gohan smiled an elated smile and Chi-Chi tapped her foot impatiently.

"Bye, thanks for everything," Gohan addressed everyone in the room, bowing slightly.

Chi-Chi shot a sharp glance at everyone in the room before she gestured Gohan to leave and wait outside at the car.

"Chi-Chi dear, I'm sorry. I thought it was so nice that Gohan was here and it had been so long since I'd seen him that I insisted on him staying over for dinner. It's my fault," Bunny confessed with a guilty smile in the hope of calming the fervent mom.

"Well, I have nothing to say about the responsibility of you people. Especially you, Bulma."

"C'mon Chi-Chi, a kid Gohan's age needs to have friends and needs to get time to play. All this studying is doing your son no good. You should allow him to play with Dende; it's the only friend his own age he's got."

"Next time, tell him to go home and study and not to leave his mother like his father does."

Ox-King's daughter was already turning to go outside when Dende stopped her.

"Ma'am, with your permission, please, may I come visit and do homework with Gohan. You can stay with us and make sure that is what we're doing. Please?"

Dende looked up at the black-haired woman. She looked strict and he knew those 'green people' like himself and Nail and Piccolo creeped Gohan's mom out. But they were Gohan's only real friends besides Bulma and Krillin and the animals. She'd have to understand that, right? Tears were forming in his large eyes, and he looked aside nervously.

Chi-Chi looked shocked and seemed to struggle with herself between disgust and understanding.

"That's a fair question right, Chi-Chi? It would really please Gohan, and he'd be studying with a friend instead of by himself for once. You can just phone me when it suits you and I'll send him over. Maybe I could come with him and we could have a drink together."

It was a long-shot, but Bulma seemed to have pushed Dende's plea beyond Chi-Chi's strict and controlling ideas and she nodded.

"Thanks a lot, ma'am," Dende bowed.

Not knowing what to say, she decided on an incomprehensible to anyone but a Namekian 'you're welcome' and went after her son. Dende beamed.

___________________________________________________________________________

The evening went by without any significant events and it didn't take long before the Briefs retreated to their separate bedrooms.

Bulma apprehended Vegeta in the hallway. He'd been heading to his bedroom with a white glove in hand. She took his right hand into hers.

"The skin looks raw, Vegeta. Are you sure you shouldn't at least apply ointment to this?"

"I'm sure and it doesn't concern you."

Vegeta snatched his hand back and entered his bedroom, closing the door with a bang. Bulma sighed and headed to her own bed, as well.

It took Bulma a while until she fell asleep, and when she did, she slept like a log – until she woke up with a shock five o'clock in the morning, that is. She was sure a sound somewhere in the house had woken her up. Someone had screamed something to someone. But she couldn't remember what it was and all was silent again now.

She put her gown and slippers on anyway and went into the hallway, heading for the stairs. But after she rounded the corner she saw Vegeta standing there in nothing but the navy blue fabric of his suit, clutching his right hand. It was bleeding a lot heavier than she'd seen it do the day before.

"C'mon," Bulma nudged him, gently putting her hand around his right wrist.

Vegeta shivered and seemed in doubt and apprehension for a short moment, but then he let her soft touch guide him to the infirmary.


	11. Leader of the Pond

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

___________________________________________________________________________

Chapter 11: Leader of the Pond

"The company will be here 3 PM sharp," Bulma said while she let herself fall onto the couch demonstratively, frowning in disagreement.

"What's bad about that, sweetheart?"

"What's bad about **that** is that I phoned the company on the **seventeenth**. And what date is it now? Dad?"

"It's Thursday the 26th of June," Dr. Briefs said absentmindedly, not even bothering to look up from his paper.

"Exactly. Which means it took **nine** days for that bunch of lazy bums to fit **me** into their timetable. Who the hell do they think they're messing with? Don't they realize something really bad can happen to me at any time as long as that frog is still here? What if he had come out of that pond to look me up and take me over when I was sleeping? Don't they realize one of the world's most amazing and deadly beautiful scientists would have been lost if they'd allowed that to happen? And it's only 9 AM now: that means that frog still has six hours to get to me! They'd better be on time and they'd better be competent."

Bulma sounded genuinely upset. Apparently, Vegeta's earlier suggestion had attached itself to her mind like a parasitic presence, providing a constant anxiety that Ginyu was spending his time in that pond while cunningly and patiently awaiting his chance to take her body. Neither of her parents seemed to take much notice of this, though.

"Oh don't worry about that, sweetie; I'm sure that frog-man has lots of fun playing with his friends in our lovely pond, and I'm sure they will be," Bunny said, smiling naively.

"Ugh. Well if they're not, they can wave any form of payment goodbye."

"Don't you think that's a bit harsh? Our company wouldn't run without its timetables either, you know – sometimes even important relations have to wait a couple of days before we can plan them in."

"Exactly – **a couple of days**. It's bullshit that they didn't have an opening before today – they just didn't feel like going through the trouble of making a change."

"Whatever you say dear," Dr. Briefs gave up tiredly, browsing to the comic.

___________________________________________________________________________

Vegeta was tired. Some quick math had taught him it was the 57th day of the 130 days he had to wait for Kakarot's revival. For the chance to learn of the true nature of the legendary super saiyan from none other than the sole survivor of the race besides himself, who, even worse, completely denied his heritage, and had **still **gotten to claim that particular saiyan-birthright.

And he was not even halfway there.

He still had seventy-three days of waiting to go. **Seventy-three**. It was pure and utter torture.

The past days had been horrid and Vegeta feared the pointlessness of this planet was doing some kind of slow but certain damage to his brain. By the time the 130 days would finally end, it would probably be for the best if they'd just send him to one of Frieza's planets, saying his old toy was malfunctioning and needed to be fixed.

Life here was an embarrassment. Nothing more, nothing less.

He'd opened the wound on his hand three nights in a row during his nightmares. And every time, the woman seemed to have had some kind of instinct about it. She'd come to meet him in the hallway every time, and he'd let her nurse it.

With the images of his past still so vivid on his retina, he was simply too stumped and disorientated to protest. And what was the point to protesting, anyway? He was tired. And somehow after she had fixed his hand up and had looked at him with these strange, azure eyes, he was able to sleep a dreamless sleep for a couple of hours. After he awoke again he'd be able to start his day normally, as if nothing had ever happened.

It was such a dramatic change that he'd almost be convinced it had never occurred himself. If it wasn't for the bandage on his hand and for the fact that he was not wearing his gloves again reminding him – he wouldn't have thought of it as anything else than a strange dream.

But Vegeta wasn't feeling up to facing either human or Namek today and had chosen to spend his morning training. He hadn't eaten a thing yet, but somehow that felt like a necessity to tame his mind. He would push all useless earth baggage aside and focus on what mattered.

He was confident he'd be up to dealing with the humans after a good, decent work-out.

___________________________________________________________________________

When he returned to the compound, Vegeta quickly discovered he had been wrong. There was no way he'd ever be able to put up with those humans for another seventy-three days. There was just no fucking way.

He had no idea what had gotten into the woman, but she was pacing through the garden and through the house continuously. Like she was patrolling or something. It was inimitable; he'd never seen such behavior in the woman before and he was clueless to the cause of this sudden agitation. Normally she would be relaxing, walking through the house leisurely, making comments about things other people around her were doing, or maybe researching something herself… but anything far away from those behaviorisms was incomprehensible.

Vegeta had made himself go through quite the training-session that morning. He'd sent ki blasts flying, controlled them, and made sure they all followed his own ki signature when he released them. He'd caught a lot of them, but he'd made sure they were fierce blasts and it hadn't been easy. Some had infringed his suit a little bit more than it already was, and a couple of blasts had hit him in the stomach and had made him propel into the nearest mountain. A human would have broken all his bones when having been dealt such a blow.

But even though he'd had to dab the blood off his face when he returned to Capsule Corp, the intensity of the training-session didn't help him form a fence against the human stupidity that ruled here – at all. He couldn't get himself to train again – the intensity had drained him, and training on an empty stomach had, too – and all that he was left with now was the same tired feeling again, coupled with pure and utter frustration with his predicament. He felt like an animal caught in a cage, fierce scratches all over the bars that shielded him from freedom, but still no way out. Why did he have to put up with this? How was he supposed to survive here until Kakarot arrived? And then what? He'd just learn to become a super saiyan and be done with it? Kill Kakarot for humiliating him? Go into space and trample every person still worshipping the memory of Frieza? And then what?! What was the fucking point of ruling the universe, the only saiyan left alive? He might as well join his father and make sure he'd die again in Hell, for giving him to Frieza and not standing up for his people…

And while he couldn't stop his mind from thinking these bitter, angry thoughts – all that woman was doing was pacing and getting on his nerves! Who did she think she was? She was driving him **insane**!

Taken over by overwhelming impulse, he appeared in front of her and pushed her against the outside-wall of the kitchen, breathing hard.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, woman? Walking around senselessly like that… brain-malfunction is no excuse for annoying me like this."

He moved his right hand away from her shoulder, putting it onto the wall above it.

"Leave me alone, Vegeta. I don't feel like putting up with the likes of you today."

Glimmering with anger, the bright blue eyes stared into the black ones.

"I'll leave you alone if you stop this idiotic pacing."

"I can pace whenever and wherever I want: it's a free world, Vegeta."

"Since this is such a free world, woman, I could just knock you out-cold to get that damned moving around of yours out of my vision."

Her eyes widened.

"You can't do that, Vegeta – I won't know when he gets to me."

Was that fear in her voice? And who the hell was she blabbing about?

"When who gets to you?"

"Who do you think? Ginyu! Didn't you tell me so yourself?! I've just let him live in that pond there while he has the power to take over my body and turn me into a slimy frog! He's luring me into a false sense of safety and he'll strike when I've forgotten about him. If it hadn't been for you bringing him up I would never have realized – I'm lucky I have a lock on my room and on the lab, too. The company I called to exterminate him will arrive 3 PM, but he might have heard about the company: my mom was telling one of her dinosaur-pets about it only inches from the pond! Now he'll try to get to me before the company comes and then **I'll** be exterminated instead of him! I don't wanna die!"

Tears were actually glistening in her eyes and the scenario her mind had been quick to produce had taken an obsessive nature. Her mind had run away with her again.

Vegeta looked at her incredulously.

"So you're moving around to make sure he can't locate you?"

"Of course I am," she furrowed her eyebrows, hurt by his unbelieving eyes. Didn't he realize this was serious? Danger had been luring at them from that pond ever since they'd gotten back to earth! It would be Namek all over again. He could take Vegeta's body just as well and then they'd all be incinerated. Bye-bye earth.

After a moment, Vegeta burst out laughing. This was just great. The woman was making a fuss about a stupid frog. As if he could really pose a threat in that form. Both anger at having to put up with this insanity as the humor of the woman's pathetic ways were fighting their way out through his laugh. He wanted to ridicule her but at the same time, he wanted to smash her head against the wall for being so stupid and for messing his life up the way she did.

"Laugh all you want Vegeta, it won't stop the company coming around to make sure that nasty Ginyu frog doesn't take over my body! I'm way too pretty and too young to be resigned to the life of such a slimy creature!"

The saiyan prince stopped laughing and smiled ominously. He didn't know what the hell he was feeling and both his laugh as his smile just now completely opposed the anger, hurt and hatred that coursed through his body and constricted his throat. He just acted.

"What the –," Bulma stuttered – but it was too late.

Vegeta's arms had wrapped themselves around her waist and before she knew it, he was dangling her in mid-air above the pond.

"Ginyu! Still interested in this female's body?"

A teal frog with black spots, red eyes and antennae was leaping up and down from a lotus-leaf in the middle of the pond. Many green earthling-frogs looked up at their leader's amazing jumps in awe. All that left the captain's throat was a crackly 'ribbit' every time he almost reached Bulma's face.

Bulma's face had become as white as a marble floor, and at long last, after her senses had finally caught up with what was happening, she started screaming and trashing around in Vegeta's arms.

"Let me go you evil monkey, let me go, I don't want to become a frog again!"

"Then why do you want me to 'let you go'? If I let you go right now, all I do is ensure you **will** become a frog."

"VEGETA!" she screamed in exasperation.

Bulma was crying when Vegeta finally set her back on ground, far away from the pond. This had **not** been her idea of 'funny'.

"How- how could you… what if he had gotten to me," Bulma sniffled, her shoulders shaking.

"Then it would have been your own fault for making such a big deal about a frog," Vegeta stated harshly, turning his eyes away from her feeble form.

"So you would have had no problems with him in my body? He could have taken your body too, you know."

The Capsule Corp heiress was trying really hard to blink her tears away, but they kept on coming, completely ruining her mascara.

"Just go to your room and lock it until that company of yours comes. And take a – what is it you recommend to me so often? A chill-pill. Take one if you have something like that here."

With those words, the saiyan prince flew upwards, leaving the compound and Bulma's sight. Rubbing her puffy eyes, she decided to take his advice. Maybe she could get some sleep in…

___________________________________________________________________________

The doorbell rang. Yawning, the lavender-haired man got out of his chair, put his science magazine on the coffee-table and sauntered out of the room to get the door.

"Dr. Briefs? We're here to exterminate a frog-plague your daughter has warned us about."

"Ah yes, Bulma did say something about that. Follow me."

Five people in protective suits with astronaut-like helmets under their arms that resembled the one Bulma wore to Namek followed the scientist to the pond. There was no sign of the frogs: it seemed like they were hiding underwater.

This is what the five men seemed to assume as well as they took their backpacks with the supplies for the extermination off their shoulders. The red-haired man that seemed to be the leader of the envoy the company had sent addressed Dr. Briefs questioningly.

"We aren't usually asked to exterminate frogs, but to be able to comply with your daughter's wish we've researched various ways in which we can do it. There are a couple of long-term ways that are a little less rigorous: we could put pikes in your pond – a natural enemy of the frog – and we could poison the insects around here with insecticide so that the frogs' source of food will poison them as well. That way they'll –"

"What's the short-term way?" came a determined, female voice.

Surprised, the red-head looked around. Bulma had appeared behind them.

"The short-term way is cyanide, ma'am. Of course, there are other poisons that could do the job – but cyanide seemed the fastest and most secure way to our boss."

"Do it, then."

The red-head gulped. That was one intense, demanding woman.

"What's your name?"

"It's Rufus, Miss Briefs. Rufus Blister."

"Well Rufus Blister, just do it. If you and your team manage, I'll give you a generous tip."

"We'll take care of it, ma'am," Rufus said, suddenly eager. One of his colleagues shook his head. Their chief always got dollar-signs in his eyes so easily…

Vegeta was looking at the events below him from a comfortable position on one of the high branches of a near tree. There were enough leaves surrounding him to hide him, but not enough to block his view of Bulma, her father and the exterminators. He was the first one to see a blonde figure running towards the others.

"Are you the men that will take the frogs to a new home because my Bulma is a bit scared of them? How lovely. Do you want a cup of tea before you take them with you? I have a completely original sherbet-taste."

"Eh, sweetie –" Mr. Briefs started anxiously, realizing they were treading on dangerous territory now. But he was too late.

"They're not moving the frogs, mom."

"We're just putting them out of their misery, ma'am," Rufus added, "Your daughter told our boss over the phone these poor frogs have lungworms. There's no way to help them out with those worms – it makes it hard to breathe and is contagious for frogs – so it's best to put them all out. You can buy new, healthy frogs later."

Dr. Briefs' jaw dropped open. To think Bulma would even have thought of telling them a story like that… It was, again, one of the days he worried about her moral standards. Vegeta, however, was inwardly laughing in his tree. That woman was unbelievable.

"Oh my, poor frogs," Bunny sniffled. She was dabbing her eyes with a kerchief she suddenly appeared to possess. "I'll just leave you to it then – I can't watch something like that."

And she vanished from sight again – the tea completely forgotten.

Moments later, the exterminator-team had gotten to work. Bulma and her father were standing at a safe distance from the pond and were wearing a helmet just like theirs. Every one of them had a plastic bottle in hand, and they were spraying diluted cyanide directly into the pond.

Smoke issued from the water. Suddenly, various plunges could be heard. Lotus-leaves were shaking slightly as they were jumped onto. A chorus of 'ribbit' fused with the snake-like sound of the cyanide-sprays. But then the snake-like hissing of the bottles stopped as the green frogs attacked them head-on. The bottles fell out of their hands and various frogs had started sitting on their helmets, blocking their vision. Four men ran as fast as they could.

"Wait! Wait! You morons! I'll do it myself, then," Rufus said, putting off his helmet and taking the first spray he set eyes on off the ground. But then, the teal frog interfered.

Ginyu jumped on top of the cyanide bottle and took on the unnatural position of standing on one hind leg, stretching the other out behind him horizontally and his front paws horizontally to the right. The green frogs left the helmets and followed his example: some formed acrobatic towers with one another and others formed the most artistic poses to the best of their ability. The leader had trained his pond well.

Freaked out, Rufus dropped the bottle and followed his team.

"Wait for me! I'm sorry! Wait for me!"

It surprised Bulma that Ginyu hadn't tried to take anyone's body, but that didn't comfort her. She knew that there couldn't be enough cyanide in the pond to kill the frogs. This meant he would stay… She sank to her knees. This just wasn't funny anymore.

The captain walked into the bushes near the pond, and a line of green followed him. His Frog Force had succeeded. They would seek refuge until they were sure their pond posed no threat to them anymore.

"I'll clean up here, Bulma. Feel free to go back into the house, if you want."

Bulma nodded appreciatively to her father, and walked away. Vegeta let himself drop out of the tree and followed Bulma, leaving a very surprised Dr. Briefs behind him.

___________________________________________________________________________

"Woman."

"What, Vegeta? I'm not in the mood right now – Ginyu is still out there."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. How actually **did** he manage to switch bodies with you while he was a frog on Namek?"

"How do you mean? I don't feel like telling you a story just to get you to laugh at me again."

"I'm asking."

She eyed him for a moment, then suddenly sat down in the grass. Since she looked up at Vegeta expectantly, he eventually sat down in front of her with a slight hint of annoyance.

"Krillin and Gohan were running off all the time when we were on Namek, so I was mostly by myself. I'd almost lose the dragonball I was supposed to guard and then I had to go and get it and I'd run into some of Frieza's people – it was a lot of trouble. Then I met this frog that handed me my own towel when I was wet. I thought I'd found an extraordinary frog that understood me, so I made a universal translator, put it around its neck and then I asked it to say something. Then it said 'change, now' and –"

Bulma suddenly fell silent, realizing her mistake. In the body of that frog, Captain Ginyu would never be able to switch bodies with anyone. His vocal cords didn't allow him to say anything else than 'ribbit' – and he needed to say 'change, now' to switch.

"I see. Then you have nothing to worry about," Vegeta decided pragmatically.

Wide-eyed, Bulma looked up at him. Wasn't he supposed to be laughing at her for being so stupid? Didn't he have all the ammunition in the world right now to take her down? Was he actually **reassuring** her in some strange way, helping her realize her fear had been irrational?

"Thanks, Vegeta," she said quietly.

The prince looked at her, then nodded.

"Make me something to eat, woman. This whole frog-business has made me hungry."

Bulma laughed and stood up, playfully touching Vegeta's shoulder before she started walking towards the kitchen. 


	12. Halfway Through

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

* * *

Chapter 12: Halfway Through

It had been Mori who had made their hostess aware of how they'd been living on earth for almost half a year now. At first, the blue-haired beauty had done nothing but shake her head while having a very hard time attempting not to burst out laughing and make the old Namek into a laughing-stock. They had been on earth for about two months and the guy actually thought it had been half a year already!

As soon as it had dawned upon the genius that the elder was in fact very right and that he had not been talking about the periods of time they preferred to wield on earth, but about those on his home planet, she was so embarrassed with herself that she insisted on setting things right straight away.

That's how the plan to take the Nameks out for a cruise to show them a bit more of earth in celebration of the 65th day had come to life. And whenever Bulma got something into her head, trying to talk her out of it was nothing but a waste of energy.

"That's my final word on it, Vegeta. Either you come along and board that cruise-ship with the rest of us, or you stay here and fend for yourself. I am **not** going to risk you interacting with humans to get food – do you see yourself ordering pizza or something by actually using a phone? And even if I ordered something for you in advance – there's no telling what would happen between you and the poor person that comes to the door to deliver. So it's a **no**."

Vegeta gritted his teeth, clenching his fists. This was just great. She wanted him stuck on the small confines of a **ship** with all these bumbling **idiots** for the entirety of the afternoon and even the first hour or so of the evening: she'd invited the brat and his lunatic of a mother as well and together with her parents and himself there would be a buffet on water.

This was plain and utter insanity. But he wasn't going to be able to order something decent for himself – she'd even made sure he wouldn't be able to bill Capsule Corp if the just as insane possibility of him staying put and giving it a try occurred – and he didn't feel like hunting down a meal in the wilderness, either. Which made him dependent. Damn that woman for knowing how to play her games…

"**Fine**, I'll come along. But since you've been spending so much time worrying about how impolite and threatening I can be towards an unspecified human – you'd better be sure to expect me at my worst today."

"Whatever, Vegeta. Just be in the courtyard in an hour and board the aircraft that will get us to the ship and I won't care **how** you behave. It's not as if there's much you can do, anyway."

She turned her back on the prince and walked away, noting something on the schedule she was holding in her hand. "We'll see about that," he muttered to her fading figure.

* * *

The light-yellow aircraft looked more like a cubicle on wheels than like a means of transportation. Only its wings and their vivid memory of how the contraption had once brought them all safely to this very same compound told them otherwise. But as soon as they all entered through the tailgate with a red '339' painted to it, they found it took to the air without hesitation.

Vegeta situated himself against the wall of the steel environment, clearly annoyed with his current predicament. Bunny was busying herself, passing every Namek on board a plastic cup filled to the brim with water 'so they wouldn't dehydrate on their way to the ship'. She was wearing the same dress she'd worn when the adventurers and inhabitants of Namek had come to her husband's compound for the first time. A white dress with blue dots and no sleeves aside from the slightly fringed fabric on her shoulders. The very same dress she'd wear again in just another 65 days to see the mythical dragonballs from Namek at work.

"Would you two like some water too, sweeties?" she asked Gohan and Dende sweetly. They were occupying themselves by playing with Scratch, the black cat Bulma's father had insisted on bringing along just in case the creature got any particular bright ideas.

Gohan and Dende both shook their heads, declining politely.

"How about you, Vegeta?"

Eyes flaming with anger at her insolence, the saiyan prince turned his head.

"Never mind him, mom. He's a little ill-tempered today because I forced him to come along," her blue-haired daughter cut in.

"Oh dear. I'll just leave him be then. I'm sure the fresh sea-air will help him out."

And she went to chat with her husband who was flying the plane while simultaneously cleaning the lenses of his black-framed glasses with a tissue.

"Are you responsible for this pitiful contraption, woman? It doesn't get slower than this."

"I didn't see you complaining when you were brought here with this very same contraption, **your highness**. In fact, I'm inclined to remember you tucked yourself into a corner and closed your eyes."

"Just shut up. You're giving me a headache."

"Of course I am." Bulma rolled her eyes angrily. It was going to be a long ride until they'd finally reach the ship…

* * *

Piccolo had said a simple "Thanks, but no thanks," when Bulma had come to him, asking if he would care to join the cruise. When he'd heard Gohan was coming however, matters had changed. So the once so spiteful Namek got on board, surprised by the silt air. But Gohan was pleased and started 'yaying' as soon as he set eyes on his friend and teacher. Piccolo smiled.

He didn't know what it was that kid had done to him. But he could rest with ease, knowing with all his being that whatever it was, was a good thing.  
Not something you could say about Vegeta, though: he wasn't the same person he'd been when he'd first set foot on earth, but he was still far from being something else, let alone from seeing the subtle change that was taking place inside him as a good thing.

Bulma was beaming as she noticed Piccolo joining Gohan and Dende, Chi-Chi on a stretcher with a book and a couple of young Namekian children playing badminton on the sundeck.  
In an hour, they would set out. Everyone would be called to the sundeck so they could all enjoy the various sceneries the earth offered them. She'd even hired a guide who would tell the Nameks about everything they sailed by. It hadn't been easy finding one who didn't scare away from being told he would be fulfilling his job for the sake of a bunch of green aliens who were really curious about their planet, but at long last, she'd found one.

All the other Nameks and her parents had gone inside to discover what the other decks offered: the pamphlet had said they could expect a pool, sauna, cinema and game-arcade.

She sighed. If Yamcha had been here, the first thing he would have done was jump into that pool. Afterwards, they'd probably have an argument about him getting his ass out of the game-arcade and go to the top-deck with her to get some fresh air and maybe enjoy a romantic walk together. But the dog would probably manage to convince her into playing a game with him instead and in the end; she would be the one not wishing to leave the arcade because she insisted on beating him at one of those silly games, first.

Although the memory of Yamcha saddened her somewhat, she shook it off quickly. She would see him again, but for now: it was sunbathing time! And within a couple of seconds, she changed into a vermilion-colored bikini and lay down on a stretcher next to Chi-Chi.

* * *

Vegeta felt like the woman had given him a slap in the face. What the hell was he supposed to do on this stupid ship all day? Watch the earth and listen to the guide she had hired to tell of every remotely interesting tree they sailed by?

He supposed he could just fly off somewhere and track their gathered power-levels down when it was nearing dinnertime. That would probably be the healthiest thing to do. But the others could alert the woman he'd flown off with ease… Besides, he wanted to return the slap in the face the woman had given him. He wanted to make this day as horrible for her as he possibly could. Conveniently enough, he knew very well how to realize that wish…

* * *

A fume of smoke circled into the air as Dr. Briefs leaned over the balustrade, tugging on his cigarette and studying the waves that gave way to the ship. Scratch was resting on his shoulder, seeming just as fixated on the movement of the waves as its owner was.

"Do you think so too, kitty?" he questioned his pet as it meowed. "Yes, the synthesizer of the gravity simulator might work better if we'd install another oscillator into it. Great idea. I wouldn't know what to do without you, sometimes."

"Meow."

He calmly undid the button closing off the chest-pocket of his lab-coat and extracted a notebook with pen to scribble his idea down. You never knew where you got your inspiration.

Caught off-guard, the scientist suddenly stepped back from the balustrade, a tip of ash from his cigarette falling onto the right part of his mustache that hung a little below his mouth, singeing a couple of lavender hairs. A crab had suddenly jumped on his left foot: making him twitch in pain even through his fashion-defying socks, as he was only wearing sandals.

When a jellyfish appeared on deck as well and he started to lose his balance, he _would_ have glided backwards if it wasn't for the slip-resistant layer the architect who had developed the cruise-ship had decided to put upon the sundeck of the thing. So instead, he fell straight on the buttocks, his glasses slightly askew.

"How did those two get on board? With all the decks below us, we're about twenty feet above sea-surface."

Scratch didn't seem to have an answer to something so contradictive to everything scientific it had learned through observing its boss at work in the labs and Dr. Briefs decided to get up, brushing dust off of his coat that could only be imagined.

It was at that very moment that he heard a murderous scream that could only belong to one person.

"Bulma?"

But his question quickly transformed into a simple "Oh" as he saw what was happening.

Various crabs had decided to crawl onto Bulma's body while she had been sunbathing on her stretcher, and several jellyfish were closing in. As she couldn't get the crabs with their sharp pincers and painful legs off of her without getting hurt, she couldn't fend off the jellyfish. But then again, nothing could be worse than the sting of a jellyfish was.

To make matters worse, the jellyfish and crabs were being joined by another invasion circling the skies above the scenario that was taking place beneath it. A colony of yellow-legged seagulls seemed to find Bulma's misery unusually amusing, and felt the need to add up to it.

He shook with laughter as he saw one of the gulls leaving a delivery of white on the woman's offending blue hair before flying off with its friends again. Brilliant. He hadn't even redirected the birds by ki; they'd just come when they saw something interesting happening nearby. It was time to get the creatures back into the ocean, unnoticed by the other users of the ship from the comfortable position he'd occupied on its mast.

This would leave the woman in a rumble for the following hour at least. After she'd get past the event and get into the activities on the ship again, it would be time for the final act.

* * *

Cargo, Dende and Gohan were enjoying themselves immensely. Accompanied by a series of clicking-sounds, a pod of dolphins had joined the cruise. They seemed to enjoy themselves as much as the children did: part of the group was surfing the bow waves their ship produced, others were performing acrobatic figures near the enthusiastic audience on the sundeck. The guide was very happy with the dolphins' presence as well and started telling about the sounds they produced to communicate and how some of the frequencies they used were above 'our' hearing-limit. A couple of Nameks smiled at this: they had no trouble hearing any frequency.

Gohan had gotten past his initial shyness around the Namekian Cargo. Cargo had been with Dende when he'd first set eyes on him on Namek. He'd watched as Dodoria, a minion of Frieza's, killed Cargo ruthlessly and senselessly. Dodoria had gone after Dende as well and not being able to hold his anger at the injustice in any longer, he'd barged in and saved him. But since all Nameks that were killed by Frieza and his minions had been revived and Gohan was confronted with Cargo again on earth, he couldn't help but feel guilty about not barging in sooner and saving both. The boy didn't seem to share his view of this though, and his spontaneity had finally helped the saiyan-hybrid to relax around him.

The Nameks, both young and old, were chit-chatting happily and the guide was becoming more and more familiar towards the strange green creatures, sometimes even touching shoulders to get their attention and guide it towards something new. Gohan was telling all children that were interested about the various animals they had on earth, and Chi-Chi was listening in proudly, feeling her kind son brought something of society to those barbarians.

Bulma, having showered and refreshed in one of the cabins on the decks below, was pleased with this turn of events. She'd thought the day had been ruined after her looks had been by that damned seagull, but even though she'd been annoyed with her mom and the words she'd tried to reassure her with; she had been right. Looks could be restored. And as long as everyone was happy, it could turn out to be a great day.

"Feeling like a cupcake, sweetie? I decorated it myself."

She beamed up at her mother. Whenever you thought about her, she suddenly came into vision, didn't she?

"Thanks, mom."

"You're welcome, honey. Are you feeling better?"

"I am. You were right mom. This is a great day, and the cruise was a great idea after all."

Bunny winked. "Didn't I tell you so? A mother's advice is not always half-bad, you know."

Handing her daughter a second cupcake, she turned to offer one to Chi-Chi and Gohan.

"You're right Scratch; the scouter-technology our house-guest has presented us with will erase that problem…"

A mumbling Dr. Briefs came into view. Bulma smiled. Was he talking to himself again? That man could never leave his work home, could he? Even on a cruise, one of earth's most amazing inventions for as far as Bulma was concerned, his head was busy with the wonders of wires and codes instead of the wonders of the world around him. With the wind rustling through her hair, she couldn't imagine what on earth could be more precious.

"What's up, dad? Can't you just enjoy the cruise?"

"The company's important too, and I can't afford discarding an idea that has potential."

Bulma squinted. Yeah right. They were filthy rich. He could afford to start selling bouncing balls, gumballs or oven-mitts if he wanted. Hell, he could afford to do nothing for the rest of his life and she and her mom could still live the lives of royalty without ever having the need to extend a hand. Her father just couldn't take time off. His work was his existence.

"Well that must be one brilliant idea then. Care to enlighten your only daughter?"

"Another product we can create with the alien scouter-technology. Moviemakers have always been limited by the need to record sound by any means. Lots of things have been developed to improve sound-quality, but it's never been _perfect_ – you'll know what I mean, you watch lots of TV and as my only daughter – I'm confident you pay attention to the technical quality of the shows you watch."

The father looked at his daughter over the top of his glasses in a knowing kind of way. Bulma grinned.

"Yup, I know what you mean. It must be a genetic handicap."

Her old man shook his head.

"I can't even venture a guess as to whose genes have given you that snide tongue, though."

"Aw c'mon dad, don't go there. What's your big idea?"

"Well, quite simple, and I think we talked about this aspect of the scouter before – I can incorporate some of the most basic scouter-technology into a camera, causing it to transmit the sound it collects in its environment directly to the tape if I make some adjustments. You'll be sure of sound that is _exactly like it was in the moment it came into the world_. Something technology has not presented us with yet.  
Of course you risk having unwanted sound on your tape – but there's always the technology to edit sound until it behaves the way you please it to."

"Sounds great. We should be able to cover a gap in the market with something like that!" his daughter chipped in enthusiastically, the cruise forgotten.

The saiyan prince was standing near them, listening intently. Opportunities just presented themselves, didn't they? He didn't have to arrange circumstances in which he could commence with his final act to punish the woman.. he could just step in when the right moment hit. Casually leaning against the white mast, he waited.

"We definitely could. I'd need to get a patent on it as soon as possible – but that ought to be no problem. The possibility this new piece of technology has presented us with is tremendous. I consider myself blessed – having new technologies to unravel thanks to an adventurous daughter like you."

Bulma blushed.

"I'm glad you're so happy about it, dad. We have a lot of not-so-nice people to thank for this piece of technology though, like Goku's evil older brother and Frieza. But I guess we should just side-step that.  
I wouldn't have thought about combining the sound-transmitters in the scouters with video-material though. Only you can come up with something like that."

"Oh I don't know about that. Maybe you could have come up with it if you hadn't been busying yourself arranging sound-transmitters to be placed in offices of other earthling companies and finding an employee to help you out who wouldn't tell your father."

Vegeta smiled superiorly. Bulma looked shocked and Dr. Briefs confused.

"What –?"

The lavender-haired man furrowed his eyebrows and the first signs of betrayal were taking shape in the lines of his face.

"Where?"

Bulma backed away.

"Just the Pod Corporation, dad. They're our biggest concurrent and especially that Newman that leads the thing has gotten you into trouble more than once. Plus, he **always** gets away with it because he stays out of the limelight, while I **know** he's the one pulling the strings."

"Just as well as you knew I don't want to use the same methods, I assume?"

His dark eyes shone with a disappointment Bulma just _couldn't_ take.

"But dad, this way we can catch him while he's concocting his plans! If there are no plans concocted, there'll be nothing we need to do. We won't use it like they would!"

"And how do you want to explain to the police that we have recordings of conversations held in offices of an organisation that does not belong to us? You're retracting them and that's the last I want to have heard about this."

And her father walked away, his cat meowing to affirm its boss's resolve as he went.

"Well done, Vegeta! Thank you very much!"

The prince just smiled. "You had it coming."

"For whatever obscure reason did I 'have it coming', you asshole?! Is it your life's mission to humiliate me and ruin everything that comes across my path or something?"

"My life's? No. This day's? Definitely."

"You jerk! What kind of moral standards do you employ, anyway! This is all just about having to come along with the cruise? Really?"

"Of course it is. What did you expect?"

"For you not to be so petty. I knew you were a small man, Vegeta. But this tops everything."

And she went, her back towards the prince.

Vegeta looked away stubbornly, trying to ignore the sensation building in his stomach. She earned it. Her constant annoying presence alone made her earn it. But the sensation in his stomach was building. Ruining her day hadn't made him feel better – to the contrary. It had made him feel worse. It made him ask himself why he hadn't just sat this one out. He wouldn't have been feeling **this** uncomfortable if he had... And he couldn't stand it if he started to question himself. He was the prince of all saiyans – he didn't need to question his actions or their motives. He didn't!

He left. Hunting his meal down himself had suddenly become a lot more appealing than it had been before…

* * *

After hitting the sauna for an hour, Bulma went to look for her dad on the ship. Maybe she could make up. Undo some of the damage Vegeta did…

At long last, she found him. He was staring into the waves, smoking.

"Dad?"

No response.

"I just wanted to come and apologize. I never should have installed those transmitters without consenting you first."

She looked to the ground. He turned.

"Thank you. But why, Bulma? Why do you do things like that?"

"Because I worry, dad. I thought I told you about that before. You said you would think about it, but you never _really_ thought it over. There are corrupt people out there – I've seen more than you can think of. There are people out there that are so envious of our company's monopoly on just about anything that they don't think lives are important if they stand in the way of them undoing that injustice. Sometimes, you just don't seem to realize that."

Dr. Briefs sighed.

"Maybe I _am_ a little too idealistic sometimes. I have more hopes for this world than the world seems able to give way to."

His shoulders sagged and he petted Scratch between the ears affectionately.

"You're positive the employee you sought out is trustworthy?"

Bulma's jaw dropped, but she recovered quickly.

"Yes dad."

"And you're positive you won't hear a thing of what goes on in the Pod Corporation offices unless it really is something threatening that relates to us?"

"One hundred percent."

He smiled compliantly.

"Then you're free to pretend I know nothing about it."

Bulma stormed up to her father and hugged him.

* * *

The rest of the cruise passed by quite peacefully. Chi-Chi, Gohan and the Briefs family enjoyed a wonderful buffet, watching the lights of the ship reflecting in the water. All Nameks had an amazing time and a lot of them were still talking animatedly with the guide when it was time for them to board the aircraft again.

When they reached Capsule Corp, Bulma hurried to pack her bags before she went along with Chi-Chi, Gohan and Dende. She'd managed to arrange for Gohan and Dende to not only spend the following day together, but to sleep at Mount Paoz, too. She'd join them to catch up with Chi-Chi, although there might not be much time for that: she'd heard something about a special homework-related trip the fervent mother wanted to make with all four of them. She giggled. Oh well, she'd see how it'd turn out. It would be something entirely different, to say the least – and right now, that might just be the refreshing experience she needed.

As she stepped into the car after having squeezed all her bags into other bags that could be capsulized (she had not gone about this the smart way), she suddenly realized she'd neglected to mention to Vegeta that she would be gone until dinner the following day. He was probably out there in the jungle somewhere, not realizing she wouldn't be at Capsule Corp this night or throughout the following day. Oh well… who cared, anyway.


	13. Lethal Animosity

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

* * *

Chapter 13: Lethal Animosity

"I'm talking about that silly mustache of yours, Nappa," Vegeta grinned as he casually pierced the heart of a man that had stood up from the battlefield with a flick of his finger.

"Aw c'mon Vegeta, don't you think it gives me an edge?"

"Yeah, especially since it's the only hair he's got," sniggered the youngest of the threesome, black hair up to his ankles.

"Hey! No need for such abuse, Radditz!"

"Heh."

The prince smiled at the behavior of his subordinates, in his element.

"You monsters! You've even murdered the children!"

A red-skinned, lion-like man came running at them, a majestic sword held high.

"Levana will bring us justice!"

Vegeta's smile widened.

"We'll see about that."

With the grace of a predator the prince swirled sideways, ducked underneath the man's reaching arms and put his hand through his chest.

"Whoops. I think I punctured your lung."

Vegeta pulled his hand back, orange blood splashing everywhere.

"Looks like you ruined your glove there, 'Geta!"

A sudden look of anger.

"Know your place, Radditz."

"Sorry, prince," the young man mumbled, looking sideways.

But Vegeta shrugged it off and started kicking the corpses on a heap. Nappa and Radditz were soon to follow his example. They were once again interrupted however by the lion-like man, who had fought his way to consciousness by sheer will.

"No.. the sword Levana is legendary.. It will cut evil down at its roots and save the cosmos.."

The prince's relaxed, taunting demeanor returned again.

"I swear I've seen people with security-blankets behave the exact same way."

The man charged, and all that Vegeta did was aim an open hand, as if gesturing the man to stop. Before the man realized what was happening, the saiyan's ki-blast had already reduced him to ashes.

"Not such a mythical sword after all. Shame."

"Yeah, isn't it?" Nappa asked melodramatically, wiping a fake tear away. "Nice one, Vegeta."

Vegeta sent his former bodyguard a smug smile which pretty much told him it was a display he ought to have expected.

The surroundings faded and Vegeta found himself soaked to the bone in the ruins in the cloud forest he'd visited before. He got up, not bothering to dry himself with his ki for whatever obscure reasoning, and walked in the opposite direction of the waterfall: into the jungle.

* * *

If the adventurer outfits looked strange on Bulma, Chi-Chi and Gohan, it didn't even begin to describe how foreign it looked on Dende – his friend's mother had created openings in the light brown hat for his two antennae, but his bright green skin stuck out like a sore thumb in comparison with the safari-outfit and his Namekian shoes below it.

Dende blushed slightly. "Are you sure this is okay, Mrs. Son?"

"Of course I'm sure. It suits you really well and we can't go exploring for animals without proper outfits! Now, Gohan, do you have your biology books and your notebook with you?"

"Yes mom, it's all right here," the sleek-haired boy replied, tapping the bag that was draped over his shoulder.

"And Bulma, do you have the picnic-supplies?"

"Yes Chi-Chi, I have everything right here in a capsule," the blue-haired beauty smiled.

"Well, since I have the first-aid kit and Gohan's friend has the water-bottles, I'd say we're all set. Time to head out!" she exclaimed, one arm stretching forward and her index finger pointing towards the horizon dramatically.

"Yes sir!" her son saluted.

She looked at him sternly. "Gohan!"

"But – you did – oh well… Sorry, mom."

"That's better, Gohan. Behaving is important if you want to become a sophisticated young man. We're not brainless barbarians after all."

Sweat-dropping at Chi-Chi's conduct, the aqua-haired genius waited a while until the fierce woman decided the homework-trip could start. It was best not to instigate her at times like these.

"All right, let's go," Ox King's daughter suddenly stated, leading the group of explorers away from Mount Paoz.

Bulma shook her head, laughing quietly. At least things never got boring with the fiery heir of the, nowadays non-existent, Fire Mountain nearby.

"I'm going to show you my wombat-friend today," Gohan whispered in his best friend's ear. Dende smiled. This day was going to be great!

* * *

The saiyan prince forced his way through the liana and stumps of wood, his eyes gradually growing more used to the darkness around him. The canopy of leaves above him hardly allowed a single ray of sunlight to reach the ground. But he was used to circumstances like these and it didn't bother him. He knew how to accommodate.

There were no **thoughts** persisting his mind. But something **was** persisting him. Something insurmountable, yet elusive. The same sensation he'd had on the ship before he left the day before? No. It was more pressing than that.

He sat down on the soggy ground all of the sudden; his eyes closed.

"_We've cleared the planet__ Leva__ of its inhabitants, Master__ Frieza__. The clean-up__ troops__ are busy draining the planet's atmosphere of the gas xenon that is toxic to your client. It should be inhabitable to them in twenty-five short hours."_

"_**Short**__ hours, Vegeta? __Time is money, you know. But I suppose I can't hold you responsible for the pace in which the clean-up troops work. I __**can**__ hold you responsible for it taking over a week before I can deliver, however. What do you have to say for yourself?"_

"_The order was to annihilate every life form and its culture, Master__ Frieza__. You wanted a completely flat surface with no mountains or other fluctuations. We had to assure the planet remained stable and fertile and full of the potential your client requires."_

"_And that took so long because –?" the tyrant asked mockingly. _

_Vegeta__, who was already kneeling down onto the cold floor, bowed his head. _

_The monster curled his lips. _

"_I see. __Incapability. __You may leave."_

_The prince stood up, bowed again and turned. He showed no signs of being affected by his master's harsh judgment. His tail was tightly wrapped around his waist, showing no sign of life. It looked like nothing more than an ornament this way. _

"_Oh my, I almost forgot – come back here for a moment."_

_Vegeta__ turned to meet him in the opened door, his royal blue suit strangely dim in the view of the vast nothingness of space through the translucent wall ahead of him combined by the artificial light in the throne room. The__ armor__ he wore had protective shoulder- and pelvic-pads of a rusty golden__ color__, the same__ color__ that could be seen on the tip of his boots. _

"_There is a gem I must have – it is said that it enhances the taste of wine if you lay it onto the bottom of your glass before pouring the celestial grape-made fluid over it. It's a__ clinohumite__ – a red one. I won't bother you with the unnecessary details – but there's a perfect one on the inhabited moon__ Sunilgü__ – a moon that is not under my rule. I feel no need to add that moon to my Empire as of yet, but I do feel a need to add that gemstone to my collection. The minor downside is that the people of that moon seem to set a lot of store by that stone and guard it in a central-positioned mountain. Would you be a doll and fetch it for me? I don't mind what you'll do with the people in your way. Knock them out, kill them, or maybe drag some of them back here for your own amusement – I don't care. __As long as you bring me the gem."_

_Pathetic. __Pathetic! He actually wanted him to get him something to __**enhance the taste of his wine**__. He took back what he'd thought about no-one around here being as weird as the members of the infamous__ Ginyu__ Force.__ Frieza__ topped everything; anywhere, anytime. _

"_It shall be done, Master__ Frieza__."_

"_Very well then. Dismissed."_

_He gritted his teeth as his space pod landed on the moon. He wanted to be done with this quickly. The moon possessed an atmosphere and he was confronted with a sky with all possible shades of dark-blue imbued into it. Even the clouds were dark-blue. But besides that, he seemed to look upon a wasteland. Nothing but rock and rubble surrounded him. Maybe the tyrant's information had been outdated and the people here had become extinct? He started moving forward on the diffusely lit moon. The mountain he was looking for had to be majestic from the way Frieza had described it…  
_

_Suddenly anxious, he checked his pink scouter to see if he could gather any power-readings. Behind him! Level 4000 times two. _

_In a couple of seconds, he had both amphibians on their knees, clutching their stomachs. _

"_Well, well, what do we have here? Two weaklings. But your presence is something I welcome greatly. I'm here to retrieve a gem you've hidden in a mountain here somewhere. Point me towards the mountain and I'll let you go. I feel lenient today."_

"_No way!" said the taller of the two. He charged. In response, Vegeta simply blew his head off. The younger one looked in shock as the decapitated body of his comrade fell beside him. _

"_Care to point me towards that mountain now?"_

_The amphibian, so dark-blue that he was almost invisible against the sky if it hadn't been for his green clothing, swallowed. He nodded hesitantly. _

* * *

"Look, guys: this is Wombie. He's the wombat I studied a while ago, mom."

"And what did you learn about it? Write it down, Gohan."

"But I've already written pages about it – look here," the boy smiled while turning the pages of his notebook. He handed it to his mother and watched her expectantly.

"The wombat is a mammal with short legs. They're about forty inches most of the time and have a very short tail. They live in areas with forests, mountains or heath. They're herbivores and they have a pouch for their young," Chi-Chi quoted. "And can you tell me what it means when an animal is a herbivore?"

"It means that it only eats plants."

"Good. Let's see what you wrote here: it's a quadruped. What does that mean?"

"That it uses four legs."

Gohan quickly rolled his eyes and winked at Dende when Chi-Chi started to inspect his notes again. "Pet him, it's okay. He really likes it and his fur's all furry."

"Of course it is," the black-haired woman interrupted. "Where was I – ah yes: you say here that wombats are mainly crepuscular animals. And crepuscular means –?"

"That it's mostly active at twilight. So dawn and dusk. And it's still pretty early in the morning right now, so it fits I came across you, right Wombie?" Gohan laughed as the brown creature sniffled on his ear affectionately. "That tickles!"

Chi-Chi smiled and closed the notebook. At that moment, she and Bulma actually thought the same thing while watching the children with the animal: this was too endearing to have to do with school. And for now that was just fine.

* * *

"_Ah, of course. You're one of Frieza's military slaves, aren't you?"_

"_What?! Slaves? I am no slave. I am the crown prince of the saiyan race."_

_The leader of the amphibian people laughed. _

"_So you get paid for your services? You're free to go? You have a home besides his spaceship and bases? Because I thought I heard something about a race called the saiyans. An __**extinct**__ race, to be more precise. And the Colds have always had their system of military slavery; we know that in these regions.  
They take a youth with potential. Old enough to survive their training, young enough to be molded. Later in life, he becomes an adult soldier. If his power is extraordinary or his abilities are special, he can rise to any height in the army and even get a say in the politics of the Empire. But a slave is a slave, crown prince of a lost race."_

_Blood was pumping through his head and he felt like he was going to implode by the sheer pressure of his anger. He was no slave! He was the prince of a mighty race! And sure, he had to abide by Frieza's orders __**now**__, but one day, __**he**__'d be the stronger one. Strength was all that mattered in this world, and if only he managed to acquire the strength he needed, he would rise to his rightful place in the hierarchy of the universe. _

"_You have no answer, do you?" The amphibian's eyes squinted in sorrow. Vegeta knew that look. Pity. __**Pity…**__ The sheer magnitude of implications that pity presented him with was just too much to handle. It was as if the feeling alone burned through his skin and his very soul as if it were a weapon destroying everything he stood for. His pride, his honor, his reason… the animosity he secretly held against Frieza, keeping him alive… _

_In his mind's eye, the amphibian leader changed into the purple monstrosity that was Frieza… the purple monstrosity that was everything that had ever been taken from him…that was how he could barely cling to sanity, since sanity did not thrive well in places where you needed to discard it if you wanted to live… that was every measure he'd ever had to take in order to survive, no matter the cost, no matter how it would feast on his mind, just for that one goal that he knew deep down he would never attain…  
_

_Everything faded. The only thing that could be heard was Vegeta's bloodcurdling screaming. _

_At the end of it, Vegeta was left alone in a pile of rubble. The gem was gone. _

Vegeta opened his eyes again, immediately vomiting on the soggy ground before him. Not knowing what else to do, he struggled to control his ki and flew to Capsule Corporation…

* * *

All four of them were having fun. They had seen sable-tooth tigers, various squirrels, a deer, beavers, a badger Gohan knew a lot about because of the special pattern on its fur and a hummingbird.

Chi-Chi had been immensely proud when her son had been able to tell her a hummingbird was able to hover in mid-air by rapidly flapping its wings twelve to ninety times per second without having to look in his books and had decided it was high time they'd find a clearing to enjoy a picnic together.

She'd spread a picnic cloth with red and white blocks over the grass and Bulma had decapsulized all the food they'd brought along.

Dende got an extra-special mug out of which he could drink water if he wanted, but the boy didn't even look at it: Icarus had arrived behind him, and the dragon was greeting the green child in an enthusiastic way he wasn't quite used to yet; licking his face as if there was honey on there. His friend laughed.

"Gosh Dende, Icarus really likes you."

At those words, Icarus swiftly moved towards Gohan to lick his face, too, and then moved to get his notebook out of his bag by making smart use of its nose and horns. Icarus started to make various 'kya'-sounds and Gohan laughed.

"Oh I get it. You've been following us all this time and now you want your place in my book, too. Don't worry Icarus; I'll describe everything I know about you after I eat. And you can picnic with us too – he can, can't he mom?"

Chi-Chi looked kind of flabbergasted and started to disagree, but Bulma gave her a nudge, looking at her intently.

"Oh well… I guess that'll do no harm. Just give him what he likes, Gohan."

"Yay!" the half-saiyan celebrated.

"Kya!"

Bulma smiled mischievously. It had been the first time she'd heard Chi-Chi referring to an animal by 'him' and 'he' instead of 'it'.  
Maybe it was because she knew of the special relationship that had always existed between the dragon and her son that allowed her to sidestep her feelings just this once. She didn't really think Chi-Chi had been aware of saying it, anyhow.

"It's like he understands exactly what you're saying," Dende said admiringly.

"He does," Gohan told him, "Animals are a lot smarter than humans usually give them credit for. I'm sure he understands everything you or Bulma or mom are saying too – right Icarus?"

"Kya!" the dragon nodded heavily.

"See?" he beamed proudly.

"Wow. That's amazing." Dende was in awe. He had been the whole day. He'd felt a bit shy with Gohan's mother around and hadn't spoken as much as he would usually have done near his friend as a result – but he'd enjoyed every moment of the day so far. There had hardly been animals on Namek – most lived in or near the water. Besides those, he couldn't really recall any. And there were so many kinds of them on earth; all so beautiful… the miracles of the nature of this world deeply moved him. Life like this – pure and innocent – that was the reason he had been born with the potential to heal. To cherish and protect life just like this…

"Chow-time!" Gohan exclaimed as he delved into his first bento-box. Dende laughed loudly, brought out of his musings by his friend's eating-habits.  
It always gave him a warm feeling to watch Gohan eat; it was one of those moments in which his friend fully surrendered to something; moments that were rare to each of the two friends, although Dende might be the extreme of the two when it came to modesty.

After the picnic, Icarus got a whole page of the notebook with a description:

'The haiya dragon is a rare species, although more common than other types of dragons. Its skin-color can vary. One with a light yellow belly and a purple back lives near Mount Paoz.

The haiya dragon lives in mountainous areas. No-one knows how old they can become; although it's rumored they can live up to a hundred years. They can fly up to fifty miles per hour and have very sturdy skin. Guns don't affect it. They're relatively small in comparison to other kinds of dragons and have six horns. Those horns can be sold for a high price, which is why there are so little haiya dragons left these days. There doesn't seem to be any specific function to these horns though. It is speculated that the horns are there so the haiya dragons can test their strength against each other and defend themselves against predators – but since there are too little of the haiya dragons left and the ones remaining do not live in packs we cannot confirm this. They have proven to be very social and keen to help humans – which has unfortunately lead to them being captured for their worth. Nests of the haiya dragon have been found on the top of trees and in caves, mostly consisting of just a single egg. Its front paws are smaller than its hind legs and when it's not flying, it usually moves around on two feet. A female haiya dragon has an average weight between 132 and 154 pounds and a male haiya dragon usually weighs between 330 and 352 pounds.'

Gohan wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Well Icarus, I'm done. Man, talk about giving me a sore hand! But tell me something Icarus – what have you learned from this?"

"Kya?"

"Never trust strangers, okay? I'm trustworthy, and all my family and friends are trustworthy, so it's okay to help us and to hang around us – but other people might want other things from you. Don't let them get to you. Promise? Not all people are nice."

Icarus didn't really seem to get it, which upset Gohan. He'd never looked the chapter on haiya dragons up in his biology book before – it had shocked him how much harm the humans had done to Icarus's species. He didn't want anything to happen to his friend.

"Icarus? You promise, right?"

Gohan's eyes were glistening intensely, watering, which looked quite uncharacteristic underneath the adventurer-hat that was still situated on his head. "Please?"

The dragon pushed its head into the boy's lap and he held him. Nor Bulma nor Chi-Chi really knew what to say; only Dende seemed to have the maturity to know what to do.

"Don't worry about it, Gohan. Icarus is a really strong dragon – and didn't you just write down yourself that a gun can't do much against him? That's about the worst technology that exists on your planet, right? And he has you. Don't worry, he'll be fine!"

"You're right," the boy came around, stroking Icarus's head and wiping his tears away. "That's absolutely true. You hear that, Icarus? We'll be fine!"

"Kya!"

* * *

Vegeta had been walking around Capsule Corporation restlessly for over an hour, doing everything in his might to avoid the Nameks and the Briefs. The woman was nowhere around; he'd even tried searching for her ki and she wasn't even in the vicinity.

In the end, he went into the kitchen to get something to eat. He'd hardly been aware of how hungry he was. But as he'd known beforehand; entering the kitchen meant risking coming across that blond woman.

"Oh hi Vegeta! Feeling like a snack?"

He squinted his eyes. Tsk…

"Where is that blasted daughter of yours?" he asked as he walked past her and opened the refrigerator-door, looking for anything suitable to eat.

"Oh you mean my dear Bulma? Didn't she tell you? She went to Chi-Chi's place yesterday along with Gohan and his Namekian friend. She'll be back around dinner."

"Hmph."

"Can you find anything you'd like, dear?"

Vegeta flinched as she looked over his shoulder without invitation. Hadn't she ever heard about keeping **at least** forty inches of distance, and preferably more if you were in the presence of royalty?!

"Busted!" Mrs. Briefs giggled. "You were looking at the meat, so you obviously require a full, nutritional meal. Now if you'll just go sit at the table –", and she pushed the overruled prince towards the dining table, having rendered him too flabbergasted to respond, "– then I'll make you something you're just going to love."

The saiyan sat down. He felt absolutely intimidated. That blonde ditz was just too overwhelming to cope with… But on the good side of things: he **was** getting a meal.

* * *

Bulma was drinking a cup of tea with Chi-Chi in the Son's living room and Gohan and Dende had actually been allowed to play, albeit inside. They were talking quietly in a corner of the living room and she heard them laughing every now and then. Later on, the Ox King joined them and got out some kind of board-game. They seemed to be enjoying it immensely.

"It must be busy at your father's compound with all those houseguests?"

"Well, not really, actually – if it were up to the Nameks, you'd hardly notice they were even around – they insist on not giving us any 'trouble'. So we're more busy trying to get them to come out of their shells. They have taken on a liking for earth's games though – can you imagine them playing cards and golf?"

Chi-Chi giggled. "Well, after I've seen them play badminton yesterday, nothing surprises me."

She took a sip of her tea, putting a rebellious strand of black hair back behind her ear.

"But don't you have another houseguest – besides the Nameks?"

Capsule Corp's heiress knew very well what kind of topic Chi-Chi had in mind, but she didn't feel like letting the conversation take that direction. Not after yesterday.

"He has his better and worse days."

The raven-haired woman furrowed her eyebrows, but let the topic drop as Bulma pleased.

"And is your mother still keeping all those dinosaurs?"

Chi-Chi hadn't been able to leave a hint of disgust out of her voice and Bulma laughed.

"Sure is. Still crazy about her wonderful pets, too. On the other hand – 'still crazy' always **is** a good way to describe my mom."

The women laughed and exchanged stories until it became time for Chi-Chi to start preparing dinner, and for Dende and Bulma to head back home. The aqua-haired vixen was actually kind of impatient for Dende and Gohan to finally finish their goodbyes, and quick to decapsulize her two-person airplane for the flight back to Capsule Corp.

* * *

The dinner-table was already set when Bulma walked in, and Bunny was busy putting various steaming pots and pans onto the table. Both her father as Vegeta had already sat down.

"Ah. So you're here, too," she eyed Vegeta icily.

"I am."

"Why?"

Vegeta shrugged as if in doubt of his reasons himself and looked in another direction.

She sat down opposite the saiyan, casting him one last, indifferent glance before looking into the pan nearest her. "Looking good, mom."

Bunny smiled and started to put food on everyone's plates.

Aside from Bunny's humming and Dr. Briefs asking to pass something every now and then, they ate in silence. Bulma saw her mom fill up Vegeta's plate as soon as it emptied every single time, until the prince held up his hand in a gesture to stop after the twelfth re-fill. He probably wasn't very hungry.

His appearance looked unkempt – even for his standards. Stupid jerk.

"So, had fun in the jungle?"

"Hn."

"You did make sure to ruin the day of some animals out there, did you?"

"Of course I ruined the day of some of them, seeing as they **died** to become ingredients of my meal," he reiterated harshly. He'd had enough of this.

Bulma whitened. She had **not** wanted to know that. Although it made perfect sense and she knew Goku and even Gohan had hunted their own meals down as well – being confronted with it like this just wasn't very tasteful.

"Well, good job then."

"Feh."

The prince stood up, shoving his chair out of his way a lot louder than had been necessary, and walked into the living room.

After a couple of extra bites to eat, Bulma stormed on after him.

Vegeta was lying down on the couch, his hands under his head, his eyes focused on the ceiling.

Angrily, she walked towards him and put her face several inches from his own, causing their noses to almost touch as she stared into his eyes, electricity coming from her own blue gaze.

"What do you **want**, woman?"

That question surprised her. What actually did she want from him? She didn't know…

"I don't have a clue."

She retracted her face from his and took a couple of minutes to mull this over. She didn't really reach a conclusion of any sorts and suddenly noticed with a sting of annoyance that he was taking the entire couch for himself this way.

"Move over, will you."

His eyebrows shooting upwards, Vegeta moved his legs away from the couch and pulled them up to his chin. She sat down besides him and looked at him angrily. "And you're not supposed to sit with your boots on the couch, you know."

The saiyan smiled. At long last. **Familiar territory**.


	14. A Jar of Pickles

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

**A/N:** This is a short chappie, and it's mainly "funny", but I do consider it essential for the foundations I'm laying between Bulma and Vegeta. The next chapter will be longer and darker, delving into bits of Vegeta's past again. Hope you'll enjoy, please R/R =)

* * *

Chapter 14: A Jar of Pickles

A week had gone by at Capsule Corporation without any significant events. Bulma seemed to have moved past Vegeta's provoking behavior during the cruise, although there'd been a slight increase in the amount of teasing remarks she sent at the man's head.

But all in all, all that did was give the hot-heads something to row about. Something that gave both the spark they needed.

The saiyan prince had gone back to training in the afternoons, with the exception of the days he was too immersed in an argument with the heiress of Capsule Corp. Little did he know today would be one of those exceptions. And it all started out with an innocent request…

"Vegeta, could you open this jar for me? It's stuck."

"No."

Vegeta, who was eating a sandwich on the couch, didn't even bother to look up.

Bulma, her blue hair in a ponytail, wasn't considering giving in that easily.

"Aw c'mon Vegeta, wouldn't you open this jar for me? Pretty please with sugar on top?" she cooed, batting her eyelashes.

"No."

The prince was still refusing to look up; something Bulma Briefs, most important female in existence on earth, didn't take lightly to.

So she shoved the jar of pickles in front of his eyes so he could no longer ignore it.

"Open it."

"No."

"And why not, if I may ask, your majesty?" she asked through clenched teeth.

"I'm not your servant, woman. Find someone else to humor your petty human troubles."

"Not your servant – what the? And I am yours?"

"Of course you are." He looked up at her coldly.

The blue-haired beauty gritted her teeth. 'Of course you are'… the disparaging way in which he dared to utter those words… and the **presumption** of that man!

"I am not your servant, you arrogant piece of ass!"

"Oh but you **are**, woman," Vegeta replied, smiling maliciously.

"I am **not**," she hissed.

"If it helps you to believe otherwise – be my guest – although it won't change the truth."

"It is not 'the truth', Vegeta!" Bulma screamed, throwing the jar of pickles at him.

The glass jar shattered into a thousand pieces with a deafening crash as it hit the saiyan's head. Liquid dripped off his face and the pickles fell onto the floor. He smiled; he had not bothered to evade or deflect the jar. He'd wanted to impress the simple fact of how utterly untouchable he was to the woman. He smirked.

"Would you look at that – you opened it all by yourself."

Bulma's face was reddening.

"You could have caught the jar, you bastard."

"Oh I _could_, but that seemed unbefitting. You would've had your way."

"What the fuck is the problem with opening a stupid jar for a lady?! How much do I ever ask of you? I'm giving you a place to live and all the food you could ever dream of for crying out loud!"

"My point exactly – you're my servant. Now get me some more of your mother's sandwiches, woman – I'm hungry."

"You – you… There are just no words for how disgusting you are!"

"Aren't there?"

It was obvious that it was the saiyan prince who was in charge of this argument and not the human heiress, no matter how this displeased her.

"I am not playing this game with you, you asshole. I'm more sophisticated than that."

"You are – so sophisticated that you can't bring yourself to go to those aristocratic meetings your father wants you to accompany him to and so sophisticated that you walk around screaming and jumping around most of the time. Talk about 'refined'."

Bulma's temper got the best of her as she mindlessly started punching on Vegeta's abdomen through the open hole in his armor left there by Krillin. She left an imprint on the red carpet as she charged him and kept punching even though she could see he wasn't even forced an inch further into the purple couch her mom loved so much.

"So much sophistication. I see it now," the prince said sardonically.

She stopped. "**Fine**," she started, "but this doesn't change that I am not and will never be –", she eyed him for impact, "YOUR BLOODY SERVANT!"

"I can hear you just fine, woman. No reason to yell. Just get me those damned sandwiches."

"NO" she screamed, livid. Vegeta smiled as she stormed out of the room. Too easy…

* * *

"Mom, you are not getting Vegeta **any** more sandwiches today! He's had enough," Bulma greeted her mother as she entered the kitchen.

"But why, sweetie? What if he's hungry?"

"I don't **care** if he's hungry; he's impolite and he's taking both you and me for granted! He's walking all over us with his royal attitude, mom. We shouldn't be letting him order us around; we should be making a stand!"

"Oh I don't know, honey. I don't really mind; and a man can't possibly cook for himself!"

Bulma's jaw dropped. "You don't seriously mean that, do you?"

"Why wouldn't I? Aren't you being a little ungrateful, Bulma? I mean he **did** save you all from those horrible monsters on that faraway planet. That poor man has to have endured many hardships – and he still stands so proudly," she blinked a tear away.

"He **didn't** – he – oh never mind.. Sometimes there's just no arguing with you! Ugh.. do you have any cookies? I feel awful."

"Sure I have cookies. Here you go, sweetie. Is it that time of the month already?"

"Mo-hom!"

Bunny giggled as her daughter snatched the cookies out of her hand and stormed off. Sometimes she was still a teenager…

* * *

Just as Bulma was about to exit the compound, Vegeta appeared in front of her. He had his arms crossed and he was smirking.

"Where do you think you're going, servant? I don't believe I've gotten my sandwiches yet."

The Nameks' hostess looked at the prince with fire in her bright blue eyes.

"I'm going into the city to get away from the likes of you."

The spiky-haired man started moving forwards until the lank-haired woman stood with her back against the spaceship that read 'Capsule 3' in bold, black letters with a smaller 'Corp.' below it.

"You can after finishing your task."

Blind with anger, Bulma attempted to slap him. Before her hand could reach his cheek, however, he had his fingers tightly wrapped around her wrist, applying an increasing amount of pressure every second.

Vegeta looked feral somehow and this sudden act allowed a hint of fear to flash in the overwhelming blue depths that were Bulma's eyes. But it vanished as soon as it had come.

"Let me go. I know this game's been a lot of fun for you – but this is where I draw my line. It's not funny anymore – not to me anyway – and you're going to have to respect that."

Even with her wrist captured in his grasp, she looked like a fierce force in front of the alien man that stood before her. The independent Bulma Briefs of earth's Capsule Corporation who needed **no-one**.

The saiyan prince seemed to consider her. The problem was that this argument had started to run away with him – and that he was inadvertently endangering his pride. If he yielded, he'd admit she had a hold over him. Without words he'd be saying he respected her, maybe even cared for her – he'd be saying he was becoming **one of them**. An earthling, a good guy; someone that belonged here. He didn't. He didn't belong anywhere.

After several minutes, he let her go. He'd noticed he was hurting her – actually hurting her – and the confusing emotions that left him with rendered him helpless. But he couldn't leave this unfixed. He couldn't leave anyone on this planet with strange illusions about who he was, what he stood for, what he could do, and what he eventually would.

"I **can** kill you; anytime I want."

"You've impressed that, thank you very much."

Bulma was rubbing her sore wrist, gluing him to the spot with a death-glare.

Vegeta gritted his teeth. The prince of all saiyans allowing a female earthling with a power-level of not even five to put boundaries on him?  
He'd diminished entire galaxies, was feared in every region of the old Cold Empire, had crushed the life of millions with his bare hands… yet he couldn't resist **her**.

But then again – he'd grudgingly allowed Kakarot to put boundaries on him as well. But things were different – the younger saiyan had been stronger than him. If Kakarot would have desired it, the low-class could have crushed him. Even though he chose not to, Vegeta had constantly felt that difference in strength when in his presence on Namek. And then there was the woman – a frail creature who didn't even compare to stronger members of her **own** race.

"What makes you so sure I won't kill you right now?"

Bulma smirked cheekily.

"This little chat about it beforehand?"

The prince's features hardened and he took a step towards her – something mental glowing in the charcoal of his eyes. Bulma just giggled and rolled her eyes, impatient as if she were dealing with an overgrown child.

"No, in all seriousness? You won't. You obviously want Goku here, and for that, you need the dragonballs regenerated. If you do anything to harm me, the Nameks or other people around – you risk missing out on that chance. Besides, you love it here – you're just too shy to say it."

Vegeta snorted – he was smiling again.

"Yeah right. Dream on, woman."

Bulma winked. She'd managed to break through the barrier the prince had created around himself. The tension between them had lifted.

She turned, facing the house again.

"Come on Vegeta, let's get something to eat."

Vegeta was stunned. How was such a volatile creature ever even allowed to exist?

"I thought you said you aren't my servant?"

"And so I'm not. But you have to humor you, sometimes."

The prince actually bit his tongue at that one, and then presumed to growl. The presumption of that woman! But even though he crossed his arms and scowled, he followed anyway.


	15. Red and Purple

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

* * *

Chapter 15: Red and Purple

Three days had past in which the saiyan prince had been remarkably short with his hostess. It was as if he couldn't swallow that she'd made him compromise his pride in a sense. Or more specifically: she hadn't made him compromise his pride. She was the reason he **had**. Which was far, far worse.

He'd trained continuously to fend off his frustration, only entering the Briefs' home for nutritional reasons. Bulma didn't thrive well under his cold-shouldering treatment: she had become increasingly chaotic and had started snapping at innocent bystanders for reasons that seemed to become pettier by the minute.

Vegeta hardly took notice, though: he could care less about the woman. Whether she was happy or not was irrelevant. It was Kakarot who mattered, and Kakarot only mattered because the prince felt he was the key to the one thing that tied him to both past and future: becoming a super saiyan. A goal that had burned on his retina ever since he'd been a small child.

"_But maybe I'll become a super saiyan too!" Kabbatz persisted. _

_The five-year-old Vegeta snorted, looking at the son of his father's dearest guard and advisor scornfully. _

"_You're not even near my level of strength," he bragged truthfully, "and besides, only a king can be one. And there's only one every thousand years. You've got no chance."_

_He put his hands on his hips and smirked superiorly. _

_Both elite children were playing in the palace's courtyard and both were wearing similar blue, sleeveless jumpsuits with boots and white gloves. Kabbatz his jumpsuit was of a lighter shade of blue, but besides that, there were no differences. They had been ordered into their playwear and into the courtyard by their fathers who had urgent matters to discuss. _

"_But maybe a king's guard is supposed to be a super saiyan. Who'd do a better job protecting his king than a super saiyan of legend?!" Zorn's miniature protested fiercely while making wild movements with his arms. The tail of the pudgy four-year-old had become puffy with excitement. _

"_Guards are just for etiquette. I won't need any."_

_Kabbatz's jaw dropped. The prince couldn't be serious!_

"_But I'm supposed to become your guard when they crown you!"_

"_I guess you're out of a job, then."_

Vegeta blinked and attempted to push the image of the pouting child out of his mind. The child had never become his guard, so what? He'd pretty much been out of that job-perspective in a week's time anyway, as his future king had been given to Frieza. And in another month, the kid had been as dead as the planet and most of his race. It didn't matter. None of it did.

_The suns burned fiercely in the magenta sky. The two boys were trading punches and kicks in the courtyard. The younger Kabbatz was breathing heavily while the prince fought with his left arm behind his back, toying with his peer. _

_Like his father's, Kabbatz's hair pointed downwards in peaks. It reached his shoulders but was a bit shorter above the eyes where a couple of peaks did point upwards, and it had the thick, rough structure that was inherent to a pureblood saiyan. The contrast with Vegeta's upwards pointing mane had always disturbed the young lad, though. He was as elite as you could get, yet the royal family always towered over him and his father, shrouding them in shadows. It made him feel like a low-class! Zorn found this rebellious sentiment of his son highly amusing, but didn't seem to share it at all. Kabbatz was determined to prove himself to his future king. He wanted the prince to consider him his equal! _

_Vegeta looked on amused as his peer started charging an energy attack. He waited patiently for him to finish: he didn't want to miss __**this**__._

"_Lizard's hiss!"_

_But the purple beam turned to burn the hands that had brought it out and onyx looked into onyx fiercely as prince Vegeta held the child's wrist. _

"_Where did you learn that?"_

"_In – in the suburbs," Kabbatz stuttered, visibly shrinking at the sight of the prince's demanding eyes and at the skepticism and distrust in his voice. _

"_From a __**saiyan**__?" The five-year-old's voice was filled with contempt. _

_Kabbatz looked away evasively, affirming Vegeta's suspicions. "He was strong."_

_The punch that followed those words was too swift for the future guard to see coming and his nose was bleeding when he finally managed to crawl out of the prickly bush he'd fallen into. _

"_Our race is stronger."_

"_I don't know any really strong moves besides the ones that my father teaches me because they run in our bloodline. And those moves are just to protect the king. I don't know any cool moves I'm allowed to use except the ones I've learned in the suburbs."_

_The young prince considered him for a moment. "I'll teach you, then."_

Up to this day, Vegeta still didn't know what had gotten into his head that day. To think he'd spent time training someone for a small week – someone who'd been dead in five week's time anyway – just seemed so **pointless**.

He grunted when he noticed the woman sitting at the table as he entered the dining room with a couple of sandwiches. He wolfed them away quickly and then left to resume his training without passing her as much as a glance.

* * *

Bulma looked at Vegeta's retreating figure wearily. This icy demeanor of his was getting on her nerves. Just what had gotten into him? She just didn't understand it. She'd thought they were fine after the way she'd gone about that escalated argument a couple of days ago. There had been no signs implying they weren't the rest of that day – Vegeta had been positively civil. Then they'd gone to bed and bam – he was plainly ignoring her as soon as they crossed paths again. It just didn't make sense.

She shaped her aqua eyebrows into a frown and sighed. Since he'd gone off to train, she'd better get around to her own stuff, as well…

* * *

_-__ Son, Kabbatz: come inside through the West entrance -_

_- Yes, father -_

_Zorn's son swallowed. The king's telepathic presence in his mind always left him with a sensation of threat. That man was so strict and strong… He hurried to follow Vegeta to the West exit of the courtyard, though. The king was not someone you wished to upset. _

_King Vegeta and his guard stood there, waiting for them. Zorn held their sons' armor in hand and passed it to them. Prince Vegeta put on his with the red cape and royal symbol, Kabbatz his with the blue cape that felt more like a curtain to him, the way it was attached to the black chest-plate instead of to the shoulder-pads. No matter how important and influential his father was; the difference in capes and armor still made Kabbatz feel outclassed. _

_Vegeta tugged on his cape impatiently, wondering what his father had discussed with his guard and what their intention was with the two of them. _

"_Come with me, son."_

_The four-year-old followed his father obediently, thinking it was a real shame. He thought his dad had planned something with the king that would include all four of them. Something of an adventure. And now he had to walk the familiar route to the elite guard's quarters, instead. _

_The king looked at his son with something of worry in his eyes, and then summoned him to follow on a different route. _

_  
Vegeta recognized the route his father was taking; it was the one to his personal chambers. It was only on special occasions his father allowed him there; when he had something important to share with his son. He'd first heard about the legend of the super saiyan there as well. The small boy filled with a mixture of apprehension and excitement. They walked through several hallways with columns and beige curtains and climbed a spiral staircase until they reached the vast, oak door imbedded with rubies and gold that led to the king's residence. _

_After the door slammed shut behind them the king ordered his son to sit down on one of the red, velvet divans present in the room. _

"_The time might soon come that you have to live with Lord Frieza."_

_The young boy's eyes flew open; whatever he had expected, it had not been this. Anger soon replaced his shock and he raised his voice in protest to his father's words. _

"_Why?!"_

"_It has to be done for our people, Vegeta. You're very strong, even for an heir of the royal bloodline. Our overlord wants a hand in your upbringing. It will be a good opportunity for you; you'll get to fight stronger opponents than we can present you with now. If you do well and meet up to Frieza's expectations, you'll be home in no-time."_

_But the king's son was brighter than his father gave him credit for. He could see the uncertainty flicker in his eyes at his last words; he didn't trust he'd get his son back home, he was just consoling him so he wouldn't make a ruckus. He wanted to discard him, unprotected, into the hands of a monster… just so Frieza would spare their people a little bit longer. _

"_You don't even believe it yourself! If I have to live with Frieza I'll never be home again until he's killed."_

_King Vegeta took his son by the shoulders. _

"_And that's the job I leave you with. You have an unprecedented strength my son – if I and my elite warriors prove unable to kill him, I'm sure you'll rise to the occasion. If Frieza confronts you with stronger opponents – you'll grow stronger to match them. And one day, you __**will**__ become a super saiyan. And you'll finish him once and for all and return to your people. Please, son. Be patient and control your temper. Just this once. Make sure you bide by his rules. Make sure you please him. Buy time, my son. For our people. Be strong."_

_Prince Vegeta swallowed, quivering. He'd seen enough of that monster to fill a lifetime already – he couldn't take it – but he had to. He had no choice. _

"_I'll show him what it means to be a saiyan, father."_

"_That's my son__." The king smiled proudly. _

As the prince quivered with emotion at his haunting memories, several trees faded from the face of earth. 'The time might soon come…' Filthy liar! His father had requested his company as he went to inform their overlord of the progress his troops had made on the planet Tazba a mere week after that little chat. They'd barely entered the lavender-colored spaceship when the golden-eyed Zarbon had come to take him away, 'escorting' him to his new, filthy room.

* * *

"Mom, I got a comedy from the video-store. Care to watch it with me?"

"Oh how wonderful honey; it's been such a long time since we watched a movie together."

Mother and daughter settled onto the couch with a bowl of crisps and a Shirley Temple each, feeling it had been too long since they'd last treated themselves like that.

Bulma was relieved; she just hadn't been able to concentrate on the papers her father had wanted her to read. She'd been working too hard lately anyway, what with all the new technologies she and her father had been coming up with thanks to the scouter she'd bothered to repair after it had become overheated and broke down when registering Goku's power level while fighting Vegeta…

It had given her so much new work after Namek, as if Namek itself hadn't been exhausting enough! She was just tired and it was high-time for a break. Her father hadn't given her a hard time at all when she'd told him she wanted to leave the corporation be for a while, and she felt light as a feather now that pressure had lifted off her back. Time for relaxation!

Grace, the protagonist of the movie, had just made a gracious fall down the stairs, ending up on top of her newly found crush, when Vegeta walked into the room.

The two women didn't notice him at first as they were too immersed in the movie, but the blue-haired female looked up as he sat down on "his" armchair. She cocked one eyebrow.

"Isn't it a bit too early for you to grace us with your presence? Dinner is hours away."

"Feh."

That was the most available he'd been in his communication in days. Especially since he staid put. It was the first time he was around at a time when no food was being served. Bulma was actually kind of surprised, notwithstanding that she immediately found it annoying when her mom paused the movie and went to get the haughty saiyan a drink.

Her mom was hopeless, wasn't she? Poor soul… probably thought Vegeta was actually watching the comedy with them, while it couldn't be more obvious that he wasn't paying attention to what was happening on the screen. He was just… well, sitting. Probably trained himself sick for some obscure reason she'd never grasp. Stupid man… Just as hopeless as her mother, actually. But that thought was a little much to bear, and the heiress quickly took a large sip of her Shirley Temple to drown it out. Some thoughts were just creepy!

"There you go," Bunny said cheerily as she put another cocktail on the coffee table. Vegeta nodded his acknowledgement, which surprised Bulma: she'd thought he was having one of his 'zoning-out' moments, but it turned out he was actually quite aware of his surroundings.

Mother and daughter resumed watching the movie and the saiyan prince closed his eyes after having drunk some of the non-alcoholic beverage. Who knew that the nonsensical sounds originating from the entertainment of those crazy humans could actually provide a ground to keep him in the here-and-now…? Who could think of Frieza with that background noise, anyway? He smirked. Normally a scene like this would have infuriated him, and he still couldn't understand how they thought idiotic bullshit like that amusing; but now, it came in handy. He guessed these humans served their purpose to the prince of saiyans after all…

* * *

"Seriously woman, if a movie like this is what peace does to humans, I'm out of here."

"Jealous of the invention of the feel-good movie, Vegeta? I realize you savage saiyans could never have come up with something as ingenious as this to alter your mood."

"Saiyans do not need to 'alter their mood': we are a strong race that enjoys the thrill of a challenging battle any day, any time. We're not dependent on anything outside of ourselves to enable us to get around to things that matter, unlike you pathetic humans."

"Blah-blah-blah… whatever Vegeta."

The comedy had ended and Bunny had started her dinner-preparations. She'd said it would still be an hour or two before dinner could be served, so Bulma and Vegeta would pretty much have to amuse themselves until then.

"I've never seen anything so mushy before, and the jokes couldn't have been more obvious, female. I suppose the fact that you enjoyed it is just another piece of evidence proving how stupid you are."

"It has nothing to do with intelligence mister smarty-pants: sometimes it's liberating to watch a movie that doesn't require much thinking. You can just sit back and relax after a hard day of work. What would be the point of only making movies that excite people and invite to try and figure out the plot while lots of people want to watch them to get **away** from their complicated lives for once?"

"Having the need to create movies to get by life in itself shows how weak the human race is: needing movies to excite you in your mundane existence is just as pitiful."

"My existence is not 'mundane', your rudeness."

"I was speaking of your race in general. Your existence is not as mundane because you're too perky to allow it to be – not to mention you've gathered quite the set of unusual people around you. But in the end, you're still a weakling."

"Am not."

"Are."

"Not."

"Are."

"Not."

"Keep dreaming, woman. If you need to watch a movie - you're unable to discipline your mind by yourself. That's all there is to it."

"Oh and **you**'re so good at 'disciplining your mind'? That's probably why you wake up screaming so often – so full of discipline, even at nighttime…"

Bulma already knew she was passing a border when she was halfway her sentence, but she couldn't stop the words from slipping off of her tongue anyway.

Never had she brought up Vegeta's nightmares before – it was a sign of respect that she'd chosen not to ever since she'd first noticed the prince's dreaming. But what with the cold-shouldering treatment he'd given her the last couple of days – turning his back on her and leaving whenever she even addressed him – she just hadn't been able to help herself.

For a moment there, she really thought Vegeta was going to lash out. Something mental appeared in his eyes and for a second, she could have sworn he was standing right in front of her. He probably had stood there – her human eyes couldn't follow his speed which made it feel like a hallucination. He was near the armchair again now – watching her.

Collecting her bravery, she decided to leave him be for a while.

"Vegeta? I'm sorry. I just don't see why you feel the need to be such a jerk all the time. I'm going to read in my room for a while. See you at dinner…"

And with those words, she left. Vegeta sat down on the armchair again. Defeated.

* * *

"_The prince has been in possession of Frieza for a month now. It can't be that bad – I ordered Nappa at his side – but I don't even get the slightest scrap of news on my son. I'm going to demand seeing him today – our overlord will be in a good mood since I'll be delivering __news of the capture of traitors to his Empire."_

_King Vegeta was pacing in his chambers in the presence of Zorn, who was standing slightly bowed with one hand over his heart, deferential. _

"_I hope you can bring us news on him, my king. And I pray that you are right."_

_Their eyes met. Zorn had always been allowed liberties in his honesty towards the king; after all, nobody had ever proven as much loyalty to the king as Zorn once had. He dared voice the doubts the king could not allow himself to even think of. _

"_Nappa is with him," he ascertained his guard as much as himself. And he left. _

_As he entered Frieza's space-ship, the contrast between the red that dominated his palace and the purple that dominated everything that was Frieza's was almost sensible. Eerie, almost. _

_After an __argument had ensued, Zarbon led the saiyan king to his son, who was sitting quite alone in a dark room with nothing but a bench and a bed. _

"_Son?"_

_The child didn't respond. He didn't even look at his father. _

"_Son?" he tried again. _

_Vegeta looked up. "I don't suppose you've come to get me out of here?"_

_A dark glimmer in the king's eyes. This was worse than he'd expected. _

"_I thought so," the prince said angrily, drawing his conclusions. _

_It was not until now that the king noticed the bruises on his son's neck. Hadn't they taken him into a rejuvenation-tank after battle? Vegeta saw him watching and grinned. _

"_A present from Zarbon. Frieza doesn't allow me to be healed more than once a week because it wastes the electricity on his ship. I can go in a tank again tomorrow."_

_The king swallowed. He didn't want to hear this…_

"_Where's Nappa? Isn't he supposed to be with you?"_

"_Nappa has his own room, father."_

_He'd seen enough. He turned to exit the room, determined to gather his elite warriors in a matter of days and attack Frieza. This had gone on long enough. _

"_Remember why you're here, son. Do everything you can to grow stronger and to remind that lizard of who we are and what we stand for. Be proud."_

_The small Vegeta swallowed, shivering in his royal armor. It was the first time his father got through to him since he'd come to visit. But at the same time he felt in whole his being that this would be the last time for him to ever set eyes on his father; for him to hear that voice… _

"_I will, father."_

_In a mere three days, Vegeta was told through the interstellar scouter-communication that his planet and his people had all perished in a meteorite-rain and that he was the only known survivor. It didn't even faze him. _

* * *

**A/N:** For those of you who were wondering, I derived the name Kabbatz from cabbage as all saiyans have names that relate to vegetables. Cabbage is the same as 'kyabetsu' in Japanese (romanized of course) and sounds a lot like 'kabbats' (with the 'a' as you say it in 'ah') when it's pronounced. I looked at what they did with radish - Radditz to create the name.


	16. Trust

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

* * *

Chapter 16: Trust

"That's probably why you wake up screaming so often."

Her words kept replaying in Vegeta's mind. She knew. Of course she knew. How was it even possible he'd managed to convince himself otherwise?

She'd even nurtured his hand after he'd hurt it multiple times, appearing in the hallway his room was situated at even though it was nighttime. What had he even thought about the reason she'd rushed over so suddenly? But her tending to him had seemed like just another part of his dreams… a part in which he could revel in a newfound safety, a safety that dabbed the wounds of his mind, only to be locked away like a secret shame when he woke up again.

But it had been real… just as real as Frieza's demise at the hands of a low-class warrior who had ascended to the legendary level of super saiyan… just as real as the destruction of his planet and people by Frieza… just as real as how his life had wasted away in the monster's service until he'd actually died, only to be brought back and transported to earth… just as real as all the truths the prince could not accept.

It overwhelmed him. He was all that was left of a mighty race. His father had said he'd return to his people after killing Frieza. But he hadn't been able to kill him and there was no people left to return to…

All that was left for him was to wait. To wait for the mythical dragonballs, which he had once sought to gain immortality as a means to vanquish Frieza, to bring the low-class Kakarot back to life. He hoped to acquire the status of super saiyan through him… maybe he even hoped to regain a sense of purpose, with at least one living and breathing saiyan around. Because no matter how oblivious Kakarot was – Vegeta'd seen him do battle. He'd seen proof of his saiyan nature. An enjoyment rarely seen anywhere else.

The truth was sinking in harshly now. Living here on earth meant that the inflictions to his mind had become exposed, and that he couldn't rectify this flaw by simply killing off those aware of it. And it wasn't just that he couldn't: he wouldn't. He'd decided so months ago and he couldn't go back on the path he'd set out on now. There was too much at stake – and too little to lose.

He could pretend all he wanted, but living here on earth meant that the woman knew of his weakness. Within the confines of the Briefs' home, it was inevitable for her to know. And since his choice had been made – another one of those things that compromised his pride – he had to trust her on some level. Trust her not to tell everyone around her, and trust her to not abuse the information to humiliate him.

But given Vegeta's past of torture, raised with the powers of mistrust and humiliation, this seemed like an impossible task to him. It was like he'd created various walls around himself and was now left with no space to move, having pushed himself into his own corner with no way out. In his room at Capsule Corporation, he was literally writhing in agony, continuously attacked by the mental split at the position he'd landed himself in.

'What have I done to myself?' he muttered.

He was sitting on his knees, his head resting on his legs, his hands in his flame-like hair.

'I can't live like this… I can't… I am the prince of saiyans… How can I have allowed myself to sink so low? This can't be real… I can't go on like this…'

Trust meant dependence. Dependence meant weakness. And the weak didn't deserve to live.

At the same moment when that thought reached its climax – causing ki to swirl around his desperate form – a small hand touched his shoulder.

His world stopped.

"Vegeta… You weren't at dinner… What's wrong?"

Bulma looked down at the lost prince with sincere, worried eyes as she stroked his back gently without conscious thought. He looked up at her – afraid.

"Is this still about earlier? It's okay to have nightmares, Vegeta… I have them too, and I'm sure you have one hell of a lot of more and better reasons for it than I have. Besides; I've never seen someone with a more disciplined mind… Do you think Goku has discipline? He either smells food or sees an animal and he's out of it…"

She smiled; her eyes watery. She kept stroking Vegeta's back, and he had no defenses left to push her aside. He felt like a stray cat she'd found under a bridge somewhere – not like the prince of saiyans. He kept shivering and he was actually hyperventilating – and it was getting worse. What was the fucking point of being here when this was what he had been reduced to?! Bulma couldn't bear seeing him like this – nothing had ever put as much fear into her heart as Vegeta was doing right now. And without a single trace of thought, she took the prince in her arms and cradled his rigid form.

It was as if time froze the two of them right then, right there – paralyzed in their mutual fear.

Tears were dripping from Bulma's aqua eyes.

Why had nobody ever told her this about Vegeta? That he wasn't evil, but torn in the mortal agony of what he'd been forced to become. Why hadn't they known? And now she would soon die – nobody was allowed to see prince Vegeta when this weak. And this would surely be too much for him to take – it was the most defenseless she'd ever seen him.

Waiting for the clock to tick her time away was too much – if it had to happen, it had to happen right away.

"Vegeta…"

She pushed the head she'd held so close to her heart off of her quietly, still slightly holding on.

"Just kill me, now… I know it's best for you."

There was no fire in her eyes. Bulma Briefs, fierce fighter for every little detail she deemed important, had accepted, even embraced, her fate before it came.

But something about her seemed to trigger the saiyan prince and he snapped out of his apathetic state in a fury, knocking her off her feet as he jumped up.

"You're a disgrace, woman. Didn't you ever learn to never give up without a fight? Well I won't kill you… I won't. You can just forget it."

He actually stomped his feet to emphasize his point. He didn't know what had shifted inside of him so suddenly, but he knew he never wanted to see the woman like that again. Nothing had upset him as much as seeing those brilliantly blue eyes, dull with acceptance.

Something had broken when Bulma stood up and hugged him again. He didn't push her away nor did he return the sentiment – he just let his chin rest on her shoulder and closed his eyes as if it were the only thing he knew to do.

That one, intense moment broke everything familiar to the saiyan prince apart. He didn't know how, or why, but at that moment, he trusted her – completely.

* * *

Bulma had waited for the prince's heartbeat to synchronize with her own before she took him downstairs to eat at least a bit of his dinner. He'd followed without complaint. He seemed numb and if she tried looking into his eyes, it seemed like he was separated from her reality by a thick haze. He had calmed completely though; she'd felt the tension in his muscles fade while she held him and there was a slight hint of tiredness in his composure now.

He ate slowly, the spaghetti twirling on his fork before it reached his mouth. She couldn't help but notice how tanned and robust his hands were, with still the refined feeling of aristocracy radiating from his long, slim fingers.

Both his gloves as his armor lay discarded in his room upstairs – he must've taken them off there for some reason. He was already in just jumpsuit and boots when she found him.

Vegeta pushed his plate away after he'd finished, indicating he'd had enough. Bulma frowned. Just one plate?

There was no time to question the prince about it as her parents entered. Her mom looked jittery and pleased, her dad just looked tired.

"Me and your father are going to bed, but you should really go outside and sit with the Namek children, it's so much fun! They've made a huge bonfire with a bit of our help and they're all sitting around it telling each other stories. It's so charming – and educative, too!"

"That actually sounds like fun. I wonder what kind of stories they're telling…"

"Folktales, I believe," Dr. Briefs added helpfully.

"Sounds great. C'mon Vegeta!"

And before he could protest, the blue-haired female had already dragged him to the bonfire.

Bunny laughed at the fading figures of her daughter and the saiyan man. Those two were just so cute together…

* * *

The large fire against the dark sky seemed to insist on playing with light and shadow on the features of those sitting around it, creating a solemn atmosphere. It was a cold night – there were no clouds – and everyone sat as close to the fire as possible, taking in the heat.

Even though he was as cold as everybody else, Vegeta still kept a bit of distance, sitting just a little out of the circle that had formed. Bulma thought the prince looked broody this way, especially with the multitude of shadows cast on his face, but then again, broody might just be what he was right now. There was a Namekian child in between the two of them, but the kid pretty much seemed to want to drown in the fire with how close he was sitting near it.

Cargo and Dende were on Bulma's left – and it looked like Dende was about to tell a story.

"I have something of a story as well. Or, well, it's something our father once told me when I was with him and Nail," the child began shyly.

Bulma was once again surprised he spoke of 'their father' – of course she knew, but it was still weird to think of all the Nameks on their compound as actual brothers – with an exception for Piccolo that is. But to think both the old Mori and the young Dende were brothers was just a little too hard to grasp sometimes. Granddad and grandson – sure, uncle and nephew – sounds about right, but brothers? Nameks were weird.

"Before the climate changed so drastically on our planet there was Ajissa **everywhere**. There wasn't a place without the blue blossoms and it was really peaceful. Namek even had mountainous areas with forests back then – not small peaks, but real mountains like we've seen here on earth, that stretch out for miles and miles.  
And in the mountains grew a really special kind of Ajissa that was really sweet, and they made tea out of the leaves for a ceremony every seven years – like Bulma's mother makes tea here too. But it wasn't made to drink – it was to rinse the dragonballs with. It was said to hold purifying powers so the dragonballs would reject evil spirits and didn't risk attracting evil men searching for their power. Of course there were Nameks born into the Warrior Clan with the task of protecting the dragonballs and members of the Dragon Clan, but everyone fiercely believed it really helped and Guru had to find and make Ajissama when he was younger.  
But after Guru was the only survivor of the storms everything was different and there were no mountains left. Sometimes I wonder if that's why Frieza had to come?"

Dende blushed and looked into the flames longingly, wondering about their lost planet.

"That sounds like a whole lot of superstition, kid. If Frieza comes, he comes, and there isn't anyone who stops him."

Vegeta had apparently been listening; he was eyeing the child with a searching expression.

"Maybe that's true. But I still think it's a great legend – and we should remember it and honor it if we get a new planet and ever get mountains with Ajissa again. Right guys?"

"Right!" all the Namekian children said as one.

Bulma smiled and Vegeta shrugged, leaving it.

"Bulma?" Dende suddenly asked. "Do you have any stories from earth to share? We're all really curious about the habits and legends you have here."

"Oh gosh, well sure. Once a year, we celebrate Christmas. We put a fir tree into our homes, and on Christmas Eve, Santa Claus comes to put presents underneath it. He's a really large man with white hair and a white beard, and he wears a red suit with a belt. He has a lot of elves that help him to bring presents all over the world and he lives on the North Pole. He has a sleigh that's pulled by flying reindeer and that's what he delivers the presents with. He keeps a list of all the children that have been good that year – the other ones get coal – but he gives the adults presents as well. We have a lot of songs we sing at Christmas time and you're supposed to make up with everyone you've been fighting with – peace is really important."

The eyes of the Namek kids had started gleaming.

"Does Gohan celebrate Christmas as well?"

Capsule Corp's heiress laughed.

"Of course he does, silly. Everybody on earth celebrates it."

"What kind of presents does Santa Claus give?"

That was Cargo. Bulma smiled. It was in the middle of summer, but the green kids were completely focused on their hostess now that the winter-holiday had come up. And of course, when Bulma started answering what kind of presents he usually gave, that only led to more questions. Because how were the alien Nameks supposed to know what videogames were, or all those other toys that were so normal to human children?

The blue-haired genius loved every minute of the attention the kids gave her and giggled childishly when she heard Vegeta mutter something along the lines of 'pathetic' in the background.

But as all topics came to an end, so came the topic of Santa Claus, and the children were still very curious about foreign cultures. So it happened that a bit of a careless boy wearing a yellow vest over his white garment dared to direct a question at the saiyan prince.

"And the saiyans? Don't they have any cool stories?"

"That's none of your business, kid."

Unfortunately for the prince, however, Bulma immediately warmed up to the idea.

"Ah c'mon Vegeta, just tell a lousy story! It won't harm you."

"Won't it? I'm worried about my sanity," he spoke through gritted teeth.

"Well I'm not. C'mon, what with the legend of the super saiyan and all, I'm sure your people had lots of more stories up their sleeves! Enlighten us."

"Up their sleeves?"

"Eh…" Bulma had no idea how to explain that colloquial expression to the foreign prince.

"It just means they had to have had lots of more stories."

"Maybe they had and maybe they hadn't."

"Just tell us a damned story, you moron!" the aqua-haired vixen pressed through, earlier events of the evening completely forgotten.

"Once upon a time, there was a field filled with blood," he started sarcastically.

"VEGETA!"

Several Namekian children had whitened and Vegeta lay down on his back demonstratively, putting his hands underneath his head and looking up at the star-strewn sky.

"There's more to you than that and you know it, you ass."

"Do I?"

Bulma looked at him indignantly, but Dende noticed the saiyan looked lonely somehow.

"Do you really not know any stories to tell from outer space?" he asked quietly.

"I dislike talking about anything that relates to my past. It doesn't matter if it would just be a story."

Bulma blushed, her shoulders slumping. Maybe she went a little over the edge…

"Does that even count for stories about the saiyan culture you're so proud of?"

"Even that past."

Leaning on his left elbow, he cast a look at the woman. The heiress swallowed. She'd never seen the prince look at her with as much sincerity as at that moment…

"Would you rather go back inside?"

After a short pause in which Vegeta stared at the ground, he nodded up at her. She offered him her hand and he took it, and she led him away from the fire, back into the house.

* * *

The Namekian children watched the two leave quietly, not knowing what to say about what had just gone on, or what to think about it.

There had been a remarkable shift in the atmosphere when Vegeta and Bulma had stepped out of the range of the fire's heat. It was as if the flames' warmth had decreased and given way to the chilly night after their departure.

But always a straightforward Namek, Cargo was the first to break the silence.

"Do you know if that saiyan's ill, Dende?"

"I'm starting to believe he is," came his brother's reply, the fire casting ominous shadows on the lush-green features of the future guardian of earth.

* * *

Vegeta sat down on one half of the two-person-couch, his knees tucked up to his chin, and Bulma sat down beside him. She decided to neglect to mention that his boots had once again ended up on the couch, and sought for the remote control. Vegeta didn't look very conversational.

After watching a senseless TV-program Bulma was brought back out of her trance by the cuckoo-clock of her mother cuckooing just once in the kitchen. One a.m. already. Insane…

It had been such a weird day today. First, she'd been bothered once again by the new method of ignoring the saiyan prince had started to employ towards her. She hadn't been able to concentrate on work and had watched a comedy with her mom.  
Vegeta had entered somewhere in the middle and an argument had ensued after the comedy had ended. But when he hadn't shown up for dinner, she'd found him like that… She'd held him, consoled him, and got him to eat… Then they'd heard of the bonfire and they'd had another problem there… Didn't it end? He was still sitting beside her, gazing off into empty space. She didn't feel tired at all; just a bit sad.

"I'm going to get some orange juice. You want some too?"

He hardly seemed to recognize her when he looked up, but her question seemed to register after a moment.

"Sure."

They drank quietly and sat quietly, and they just kept sitting there, the time ticking forward.

The blue-haired beauty began to doze off when she felt something against her knee. It was one of Vegeta's boots: he'd fallen asleep and had glided away from his spot on the couch.

Bulma stood up carefully and moved the saiyan so he lay on the entire couch, then she began to remove his boots with caution, not wishing to wake him up. He looked so innocent and at ease now… something he hadn't been the whole day.

She went into another room and returned with a blanket to cover up his sleeping form.

"Sweet dreams, Vegeta."

* * *

**A/N:** There's two things I wanted to mention.

One is that I've concluded from watching the series over and over and over that Bulma and Vegeta had, unbeknownst to themselves, already reached quite a far point in their relationship in the 130 days that weren't shown to us. His conduct towards Bulma is drastically different when he returns – it suggests something deeper has already gone on. Vegeta's absence when he searches for Goku while Yamcha regains a place in Bulma's life causes a step back in that relationship when he returns – Yamcha immediately turning into a disturbing factor. Hence his first words when getting back: "Don't remind me. I'm mad enough to hurt somebody and pounding you just might be the therapy I need." But this means I ask you to realize I'm writing with this idea in mind – and with the idea that they take a step back into their relationship later on. The groundwork is already laid and they get back there easily enough.

Another is about the story I had Dende tell. I recently read in an interview with Toriyama that he thought of the hydrangea when writing about the Ajissa plants on Namek. In Japanese hydrangea are ajisai plants. Anyway – I looked a couple of things up about hydrangea, and I came across the use to make amacha (sweet tea) in Japan of a certain kind of hydrangea that grows only in mountains.

On April 8th they bathe a Buddha statue in the tea and drink it themselves – it's supposed to repel evil spirits and to purify. I changed this legend to fit the Namekians because I thought it gave a nice touch to things. Hope you enjoyed. I created the name Ajissama because it has both Ajissa in the name, as 'ama' (sweet) as 'sama' which gives it something revering.


	17. Nuisances

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

* * *

Chapter 17: Nuisances

The days had gone by quickly and on the surface, things seemed to have returned to normal at Capsule Corporation grounds. Vegeta and Bulma bickered, the Nameks played golf and cards, Dr. Briefs locked himself in his lab and Bunny poured tea.

When you took a closer look, however, something had definitely changed between the two most undeniably present people at the compound. An argument could stop with a sudden look, and they were around each other continuously, only going their separate ways in the afternoons.

Vegeta trained and Bulma either shopped or bathed or watched a movie. In the evenings, they'd always end up on the living room couch, just sitting there. The armchair was mostly left empty, only occupied when one of Bulma's parents decided to join up.

It was still morning-time and the saiyan prince was watching the blue-haired woman fill her plate with nothing but strawberries. He stood with his back against the wall of the kitchen with crossed arms.

"What's so great about those things that you pile your plate with them like that?"

"They're my favorite food in the world."

"Why?"

"Because."

"That's not a reason."

"So?"

Bulma looked up at him and giggled, putting a strand of disobedient hair that had refused to go into her braid behind her ear. She put one of the strawberries on a spoon and took a step toward the prince.

"Want one?" she offered innocently.

Vegeta wrinkled his nose in disgust. "No."

"You honestly don't know what you're missing."

And she threw the strawberry into her mouth.

"Although – there's still **something** missing. You know what?"

"I don't care."

"Sugar. Or whipped cream. Or both. Or maybe chocolate-sprinkles."

"Is this your **breakfast**, woman? This is starting to sound like dessert, to me."

"Sometimes you have to indulge yourself, Vegeta."

"Sometimes? One way or another, woman, you indulge yourself **every day**."

The heiress pouted.

"No I don't."

He sighed heavily. To have to put up with someone so moronic…

"At least finish with this quickly. I want my sandwiches."

"Which you can't make yourself because of a disability, I suppose."

"Which I won't make myself because royalty is supposed to be served."

"Yeah-yeah… whatever you say, Vegeta."

Vegeta smirked smugly. It was obvious that she **would** make his sandwiches. Not firing up about the topic pretty much gave it away. This day was progressing well…

"Let's see here, where's the cream? Ah yes, there it is. Now to find the electric mixer," Bulma instructed herself aloud while searching the refrigerator and the kitchen-cupboards.

A lot of appliances appeared on a pile behind Capsule Corp's heiress who threw them casually out of her eyesight, determined to find the appliance that met her needs. But in the end, the cupboards were left empty and all she had left to whip the cream was an old-fashioned whisk from one of the drawers. She whitened, on the verge of a tantrum.

"This can't be happening to me! I'm too fragile to whip the cream myself!"

She bit on her lower lip anxiously and started fidgeting while sitting on the floor. Vegeta had covered up his eyes with his gloved hand. This was pathetic.

But then, all of a sudden, she remembered the presence of the muscled prince.

"Hey Vegeta? Whip the cream for me?"

He removed his hand and looked at her with a glare that could not have been more furious. This day was not progressing well at all! Bulma wasn't intimidated, though.

"All you have to do is stick the whisk in this bowl and draw it through the cream in a couple of circular and a couple of straight motions. With your strength, it'll be done in thirty seconds and I'll be more than ready to make you fifteen brilliant sandwiches with grilled cheese!"

One of his eyebrows was twitching.

"You can't be serious?!"

"Can be! And I don't plan on making you any sandwiches until you do it," she huffed.

With gritting teeth, he grabbed the whisk out of her hand forcefully. Both watched with surprised eyes as it crashed to the floor in pieces.

"Can't you ever touch something without breaking it?" the strawberry-lover spat.

"Hn."

The fire left her and she sighed.

"Of course you can't. What was I even thinking…"

She began to collect the rubble that was all that was left of the whisk and went to throw it into the trash-bin. When she got there, both her eyes as Vegeta's eyes flew open in surprise once again.  
This time the cause was someone who'd sneakily entered through the kitchen-door and whose hand had now mysteriously found its way to the blue fabric that covered Bulma's bottom.

"Teeheehee, long time no see."

Master Roshi… and he'd brought the shapeshifting pig Oolong with him as well… just great.

"Hands **off**, slime-ball."

Her eyes were vomiting venom as she watched him after pushing him away, her hands held firmly on her hips. He was not getting away with this one.

"Oh my, I've got no idea how my hand got there… Hehehe."

"Sure you didn't," she said sarcastically, squinting her eyes to slits. "And what brings the two of you here, anyway?"

"We thought we'd go and see how you were holding up with all those Namek guys walking around," the pig, wearing trousers and a neat blouse, chipped in.

"Go see yourself how they're holding up in the courtyard, they're not giving me any trouble and they don't even enter the house. You'll find my mom there as well, and if you want something to eat, she's the one you need to go see. Now scram it."

"Geese, whatever set her off so early in the morning…"

But Oolong paid for that one by a push to his back, causing him to topple over the appliances that were still present on the kitchen floor. "Okay okay, geese, we're going. Talk about being hospitable."

The aqua-haired vixen closed the kitchen-door behind the two perverts demonstratively as they took her advice and went for the courtyard.

"Who the hell were they?"

Vegeta had walked up behind Bulma and was looking at the closed door with a shocked expression. The adventurous girl looked up at him, surprised. Didn't he know? But of course, he'd never seen them. She'd heard from her father that they had been planning to follow them to Namek with Puar and Chi-Chi, but that their trip had discontinued when she'd called her father saying they were on earth. And only Chi-Chi had come along to pick them up. The others had long gone before Vegeta had ever set foot on her father's compound.

"Sit down. I'll make you your sandwiches, and I'll tell you."

He sat down cautiously, watching her movements in the kitchen wearily. She seemed to have forgotten about the whipped cream she'd had to put on her strawberries so necessarily, and turned to the table in five minutes with a tray of steaming sandwiches. Those had obviously been made with an electric appliance: one had vanished from the kitchen floor. It'd better taste good…

She went to fetch her strawberries, some sugar and an extra plate and then returned to the table, sitting down opposite Vegeta.

"The lecherous old man with the white beard and mustache you just saw is Master Roshi. The rude pig is called Oolong."

"But who are they?"

"Master Roshi is Goku's martial arts teacher."

The saiyan prince choked on the sandwich he had been chewing and spit half of it out.

"**That** man taught Kakarot martial arts? Oh come **on**!"

"Hard to believe, huh? He taught Krillin and Yamcha as well. You know the kamehameha technique Goku uses?"

He nodded.

"Well, that's Roshi's trademark move. He's the one who taught it to him. It was the first ki-blast Goku ever learned. The man lives on a very isolated island with room for just one house called 'Kame House'. It's become somewhat of a gathering point for our group over the years, really. He's very perverted – you don't want to know what kind of magazines he reads and what kind of shows he watches – but in the old days, he was the strongest human alive."

Vegeta swallowed. This was insane.

"And the pig?"

"Oh, Goku and I ran into him when we were looking for the dragonballs. He can shapeshift, although he's not very good at it since he never finished school. He's a sneaky, cowardly little guy with his own perversions – mainly female panties. To sum it up: they're misfits."

The saiyan was having a bit of trouble processing all this new information. He never really paid much thought to the history of Kakarot's adventures here before their clash.

Bulma was calmly putting strawberries on her fork and eating them. She had chosen to combine a light hue of blue with a light hue of yellow today and it really suited her. She wore a simple blue dress with a yellow belt at the waist and yellow khaki pants below it. With light blue sneakers, cream wristbands and cream hair-accessories she looked young, sporty and very attractive. A small butterfly-clip glittered in her hair innocently.

"So, you spent time with Kakarot searching for earth's dragonballs?"

"Hmm? Oh, sure I did. I was sixteen and Goku twelve. I found him on Mount Paoz. He had no clue what a car was back then; he destroyed mine thinking it was a monster. I was quite surprised when nothing happened when I shot him…"

"You **shot** him?"

"He was molesting my car! Anyway, I was kind of horrified of what I'd done myself…"

Vegeta sniggered.

"But yeah, I'd heard of the legend of the dragonballs, and I was bored, so I made a dragon radar and went to look for them. It's a good thing I came across Goku: there were lots of villains after the dragonballs as well and he came in handy for protection."

The saiyan soldier remembered the 'watch' Kakarot's brat had shielded from him on Namek. So she was the one who'd fashioned it. Who else…

"Anyway, the whole group you met when you first set foot here with that other saiyan consisted of people we'd gathered around us on our journey. The best fighters of earth."

Prince Vegeta shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose."

Capsule Corp's heiress giggled. He looked so irritated and lost at the same time.

"You'll get to find out for yourself when we wish them back."

He gritted his teeth. "Can't wait," he said sardonically.

* * *

Roshi and Oolong had eaten pizza and were now enjoying a bit of light reading while sitting on the living-room armchair together, the humanoid pig on the armrest. Snickering could be heard occasionally.

Bulma stood in the opened door to the living room, ready for an afternoon-movie, but found it a lost cause with the two of them present. Vegeta had gone off to train and she didn't feel like bathing or going into the city. Sighing, she went to find her mom to see if she had anything interesting to do…

* * *

A lake somewhere in lonely mountains rippled from the center. In a matter of seconds, the water yielded, forming a perfect circular wall around the middle of the lake. The middle of the lake where the saiyan prince formed the eye of the storm.

He held his eyes closed. It was just a matter of practicing ki-control: he'd increase his endurance by keeping the water like this for at least an hour. It was a slow-paced kind of training, but the effects were tremendous. Maintaining a same level of ki and continuously pushing it into the water around him was draining. It was trying for both patience as skill; a way of training Vegeta employed more often. He was meticulous and demanded perfection: one droplet of water out of his control meant failure and a punishing training regime. Perfect ki-control was the only way to direct ki at an enemy just the way it had to, which he deemed vital for a tactician's battle. Your ki had to be at the right place, at the right time, and in the right form. If it was anything else than that, you put your survival in jeopardy and had only yourself to thank for it. No… Vegeta didn't accept less than perfection.

* * *

Bulma had found her mother in a frenzy about a cake she wanted to bake. She'd resigned to help her make it and the location of the electric mixer had come to light as well – Dr. Briefs had left it in his lab after having senselessly used it to mix a couple of chemicals.

Of course, the two lechers had been the first to stuff their faces with the cake. Bulma found it disgusting. They had no manners, and besides that, they just didn't deserve it; inviting themselves here like that. She'd actually gone to sit against the spaceship in the garden all by her lonesome when Vegeta came flying in.

"Hey 'Geta, what's up?"

Vegeta looked at her with a vacant expression. What the hell did she mean by that? Probably trying to drag him into small-talk again…

He wanted to walk past her when Roshi and Oolong took the liberty to come stumbling into the garden. It looked like they'd gotten their hands on some liquor: they weren't walking steadily and they seemed to be leering at no-one in particular.

Unaware of his own actions, he went to stand next to where Bulma was sitting, keeping his eyes trained at the pig and the man that had already received his abhorrence.

Drunk as they were, the colorful appearance of Bulma against the white of the spaceship caught the attention of the couple, and they walked into the direction of the saiyan prince and human girl.

"What are you wearing, Bulma? You look like a teen again with that outfit."

Oolong, three feet tall, stood grinning at the heiress, his pale pink ears flapping.

"Piggy," Bulma whistled teasingly.

Oolong's pale pink face paled and he started to stand at a greater distance. It had been ages and he didn't know if it'd still work, but he didn't want to get the trots like that again!

Vegeta didn't really get how come the woman had just achieved what she had. Their past was just too damned vague to him… utter insanity. The Roshi-man was going to form a problem, though.

"Anything I have worthwhile for a bribe? Hehehe."

The teal-haired female flushed, feeling both angry as embarrassed.

"You don't own anything worthwhile nor are you worthwhile yourself, perve."

"You sure about that? These sunglasses have lasted for a long time, you know! And I came across some stores with amazing bathing suits on my way here. There's a blue one that'd really make the color of your eyes come out, hehehe."

"Oh, you mean the super-revealing one?!" Oolong yelled excitedly from behind.

Roshi turned around. "Would you stop ruining it for me! I'm trying to uphold a decent conversation."

Bulma had stood up. "Decent, my ass. **Get lost** if you're in a mood like this. You live on that island of yours for a reason, you know. You're only useful when you're in your serious mood; telling your martial arts stories or discussing it when Goku's in trouble. Whenever you're not like that – I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU!" she ended screaming at the top of her lungs.

"Oh my, you're even more beautiful when you get angry. Let me just –"

But Roshi never got the chance to finish his sentence. Vegeta had kicked him straight to the stomach, and the turtle hermit had spiraled into the air, coming down who-knew-where. At least it was safe to say he was no longer in the vicinity of the compound.

And being the cowardly pig he was, Oolong ran off on his own accord. He could just be seen running off the property when Bulma finally caught up with what had happened – and burst out laughing. That was the most brilliant thing Vegeta had **ever** done.

After her shoulders had stopped shaking with laughter she wiped the amused tears out of her eyes and turned to look at her hero fondly. She laid a hand onto his shoulder and thanked him.

"Don't get too familiar, woman. I didn't do it for you anyway. Those two were driving me crazy."

"Familiar like this?" the vixen asked mischievously as she half-hugged the prince.

"Woman!" Vegeta's face had reddened considerably.

She released him, walking away with girlish giggles. That guy was such a prude… Nice contrast with Roshi, though.


	18. Puar's Visit

**Author's Notes:** Hi everyone, I wanted to say a big THANK YOU to everyone who's reviewed. All your wonderful reviews really motivate me to write. I'm in the midst of moving to a new home at the moment and don't have much access to the internet, which means I haven't gotten around to replying to reviews personally (which I usually do whenever people review when having logged in). So I just wanted to thank everyone for the support at the start of this chapter. Thanks and happy holidays everyone! At least I hope to go somewhere with internet-access before the New Year starts, so I can still wish you all just that. It's the 25th now I've finished this, but I don't have a clue when I'll be able to upload. Oh well ;) I'm going to keep my author's note this way anyway, just for the senseless sake of things ^p^

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

* * *

Chapter 18: Puar's Visit

The brilliant beauty was spending a lot of time on her looks this morning. There was no special occasion she could use as an excuse to do so: she just felt like expressing a completely different side to her today. She wanted to be looked at in admiration as she walked by. She wanted people's eyes automatically dragged to her wherever she was, lingering on her perfection. So she tried something completely new.

A dark olive jacket, suede; part of a sophisticated pantsuit. A light shade of lipstick and chic yet subtle earrings. Her loose hair fell over her shoulders graciously, thick and wavy.

Bulma Briefs looked into the standing mirror in her bedroom, satisfied. She was going for the mature-yet-irresistible look today. She giggled. You'd think she was up for an important conference or something! She put on a subtle perfume with a musky scent and a slight hint of lotus, and went downstairs for a spot of breakfast. It was going to be just another day.

When she entered the kitchen, however, she found that Puar, Yamcha's faithful floating shapeshifter, was sitting at the table, chatting with her mother. The squeaky, small voice of the feline together with the high-pitched voice of Bunny made for a strange scene: it didn't take the blue-haired heiress very long to put two and two together and understand why when her mom told her Vegeta had already eaten and left to train after Puar had come around.

"So, Puar, how've you been?" she informed politely as she sat down with a cup of tea.

"It's been strange being without Yamcha for so long."

"Yeah, I can imagine that. You've been together ever since the desert-days, haven't you?"

"Yes, we have," the creature replied sadly. "I miss him."

"I miss him too," Bulma replied sympathetically. "But it won't be too long until we both get to be around him again."

The cat-like shapeshifter with her blue-grayish fur nodded appreciatively.

"What's the first thing you're going to do when he gets back, Bulma? Are the two of you going to get back together again?"

"Gosh Puar, I guess I've just always assumed we **will** get back together after he comes back to life. I've never really questioned it."

"That's perfect! I know Yamcha wants it – and then we can all be together again, just like we used to."

Grateful tears glistened in the feline's eyes. The blue-haired beauty felt slightly taken aback by Puar's intensity, but smiled brilliantly at her nonetheless, feeling obliged to reassure the lost creature. Puar really was nothing without Yamcha…

Bulma sighed wistfully, remembering the lopsided, goodhearted grin of the scar-faced fighter. He could look at you like a loyal dog who simply didn't know any better, and he knew extremely well she had never been able to hold a lasting grudge against him that way.

"Why don't you girls go catch up in the living room while I go my way about the kitchen?" the blonde-haired woman cut in smartly. She led them away, supplying them with cookies, drinks and – just in case – tissues. Finally, the kitchen to herself! It was high time to devote herself to the wonderful art of baking… she was feeling like it even more than usually.

* * *

Dende was having a hard time enjoying himself in the courtyard. Piccolo was moody – apparently Nail had been tucked far, far away – and he didn't feel like any of the games the other Namek kids were playing. He missed Gohan so much that it almost hurt. And when he finally managed to find enough courage to go into the house and ask Bulma for help, he noticed she was immersed in conversation in the living room. He couldn't possibly disturb her… Just when he'd decided to give up, he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Is there something you want, sweetie?"

Bulma's blonde mom was smiling at him, her hands clasped together near her face. It always made the boy wonder why she did that. Was it to emphasize she found everything around her adorable? Or did she think it looked friendly and reassuring?

He fidgeted and blushed slightly. "There's nothing I need ma'am."

"Oh no – no – no," she wagged her finger disapprovingly. "I can see by the look on that face of yours that there's something you'd like. You can't hide something like that from a mom, you know," she winked at the child.

"Um, well, I don't want to give you any trouble, and maybe only Bulma can do it and…"

"Now now dear, you don't know that until you tell me what's on your mind. Just tell me – there's not much that I can't do," she smiled brightly.

"Well, Bulma had gotten Gohan's mom to agree that I could make homework with him sometime, and we did make homework together once with Bulma there too, but that's quite a while ago and I sort of miss him," he trailed of, having spoken in almost a whisper.

"Ohh is that it! But sweetie I can call Chi-Chi too and arrange that: we don't need Bulma for that! Follow me!"

And she dragged a very surprised and flustered Dende along with her.

She'd phoned the Son's residence in seconds.

"Oh hi Chi-Chi, you're speaking with Bunny, Bulma's mother. I have a really sad little boy here standing right beside me that would really like to make some homework together with your sweet Gohan. I'll send him along and have him take some cookies and a meal for you and your family with him. That's all right isn't it? Is the weather on Mount Paoz as wonderful as it is here? The mosquitoes aren't giving you any trouble, are they?"

The lighthearted but demanding tone she immediately took with the traditional woman really shocked the Namekian child. She didn't really leave Gohan's mom with an opportunity to interrupt – she just showered her with senseless chatter, coated with a layer of an absolute refusal to hear a 'no'. Maybe this was simply the way to cope with the strict Mrs. Son – and maybe Bunny even gave Bulma a run for her money by how good she was at it.

When she finally put the receiver down, Dende couldn't believe his ears. He was invited for a morning of homework and an afternoon of **play** with his best friend. She really must have caught Chi-Chi off-guard. Or maybe she was just **that** persuasive.

No matter which one of the two it was, it surely proved that Bulma's mom was not half as mindless as she usually seemed… Just like her daughter, she knew how to get her way!

* * *

Vegeta looked at the sun's position as he found his stomach grumbling. It seemed to be about noon, so that made sense… He decided to head back to Capsule Corp to get something to eat, hoping that that bizarre, floating creature would finally have left.

For a short moment, he actually thought he was lucky when the ditz was the only one present in the kitchen. But with a twitch to his stomach, he heard the annoying voice again, coming from the living room. It sounded like the thing was wailing.

With another twitch to his stomach, he heard the woman soothing it. This was just great. He hadn't even been back for a minute and his insides were already screaming to get the heck out of here again. And that's what he would do… He just needed to get some food in, first.

"Oh hi Vegeta. My my, you move so fast I hadn't even noticed you come in. You're probably starving; but not to worry, I just baked a lot of fresh bread! Here you go."

And she put five whole breads on the table, cutting them with a special knife that trembled electronically to cut through faster.

"I don't really know what you like on bread, but I know meat always does well," she said as she plunged her head into the refrigerator, coming back with flat, plastic boxes with cold turkey, smoked salmon and good-old salami.

The annoyed prince didn't bother to respond, but chose to just start eating. The sooner he was out of here again, the better. And as long as the bimbo brought him food, he'd tolerate her presence and even her senseless chatter. She was used to him not responding anyway.

* * *

"Yeah, I remember the first time I laid eyes on Yamcha… I actually remember it more clearly than our first weeks together," Bulma reminisced dreamily. "It was so cute how he couldn't be around women! I've always prided myself on being the one who helped him get over that."

"And you did a great job at that," Puar replied admiringly. Bulma smiled. She loved it, but she was sure Vegeta would start gagging when near a subordinate creature like her… It would be overdone and way too corny for him to bear.

She and Yamcha's faithful shapeshifter had spent time digging up memories on their shared companion in life ever since Bunny had sent them into the living room. They'd had a couple of good laughs, but as the clock ticked the hours away, the talk became more painful and the jokes and happiness of their memories less apparent. It was hard to imagine that Yamcha was spending time on King Kai's planet training while he was, well – **dead**. He was dead. It was almost surreal, like the concept hadn't really sunk in before. Sure he was coming back – but for now, he was dead. He'd 'past away'.

Going to the battlefield where Yamcha and the others had fought against the infiltrating saiyans and where they'd fetched the lifeless bodies of her boyfriend and the three-eyed Tien had been a long time ago. The wounds had been so fresh back then that she could shed tears all she wanted: it didn't **really** seem like a reality. And then she, Krillin and Gohan had set out for planet Namek in no-time. They'd been so busy with getting them wished back – or at least _she_ had – that she'd never had the space to come to terms with the fact of his death.

Because even with the power to undo his untimely death, it didn't cause him to be less dead for the time being. Right? It was confusing, and Puar really reminded her she ought to have been feeling more guilty about Yamcha somehow… Being able to fix everything with the dragonballs just kept her from taking these things seriously at times.

"Do you think Yamcha still thinks of me, Bulma?"

The feline's words pulled the beautiful blue-haired genius away from her musings, surprised.

"Of course he thinks of you. Why wouldn't he?"

"We – we kind of had an argument before he went to fight the saiyans. I – I insisted on him making up with you before he went – and he got angry and said that he knew you were rooting for him to protect the earth but that he didn't have time for that right now. He said he would go to you right after beating them. He was so confident –"

Puar burst into heartbreaking sobs, rendering her speech incoherent, and the female scientist tried to console her, not sure of exactly what she was supposed to do. Hearing about their conversation before he'd set out for the battle kind of disconcerted her herself.

Unsurprisingly enough; it didn't take that long before they both needed the tissues Bunny had given them.

* * *

"Wow Dende, I can still hardly believe you're sitting beside me right now," Gohan said happily, looking at his green friend that had taken place on an extra chair while they were trying to focus on the demi-saiyan's homework that lay open on his desk.

"I still have trouble believing it too – it's too good to be true."

The black-haired boy laughed freely, his silky hair reaching his shoulders. "But that doesn't mean we shouldn't enjoy it."

"No, definitely – we really should," his friend agreed, his antennae shaking slightly as he nodded. "What question were we at?"

A milk-colored finger followed the paper, searching.

"Here! Something about erosion…"

And the two boys leaned their heads towards the table-surface and put their noses in the books again: more than happy to be doing homework just for the sake of being together.

* * *

The saiyan prince was really fed up with the whereabouts in the living room by now. It had just passed 3 p.m. and the droning still continued. He'd trained again after lunch – just as he had all morning – convinced he could be enjoying his **peace** when he got back. But **no** – that stupid creature had to come and the woman **had** to spend all her time with it and talk so much about topics that confused her that she would be a living wreck by the time she got out of the blasted conversation. **If** she ever got out of it. And she wasn't any form of entertainment at all like that! She was practically selling her spirit to the rodent, becoming a weak, lifeless plant for no good reason. It was infuriating. He couldn't stand it.

He'd subjected himself to ruthless training in the past hours – there was a cut beneath his left eye were it had become slightly dark and swollen and there were scratches on his right cheek.

A worried Bunny had wanted to tend to him, but he'd brushed her aside easily. He did allow her to fill the table with the results of her day of baking, eating anything that seemed remotely tasteful in his eyes. There were cakes, muffins, cookies and, strangely enough – casseroles – all decorated in their own way.

But even towards the ditz, he found it impossible to keep his annoyance hidden. His continuous glances towards the closed living room door were enough to make the observant female ask what was bugging him.

"That blasted woman and that thing in there! Seriously, they were insane before but they had at least a smidgen of self-control – they're **making** themselves upset like this. I swear – another second of this and I'm going in to snap their necks."

"There there, dear, women just need chats like that every now and then to get things out of their system they didn't even know were still there. It's like cleaning – and very much like cooking, too, you know," the blonde woman replied while taking a sip of tea, getting into a lengthy explanation about how cooking related to it all.

Vegeta blinked and got out of there while he still could without Bunny's insane metaphors settling in his brain, leaving her to explain it all to thin air.

* * *

Dende and Gohan laughed as they raced around the house of the Son's that was partially made from wood. The sun was shining brightly, the azure sky was almost without clouds and a welcome breeze rustled the leaves of the trees.

It had taken a little longer than Mrs. Son had promised Mrs. Briefs it would – but they could finally spend time with each other without it having to be through Gohan's homework.

Of course, it _had_ helped that the meal Bunny had given to Dende to take with him gave the fierce mother the freedom not to have to go to the grocery store in the nearest village for once. She'd gotten around to drastically cleaning the house and was even left with time for relaxation, which she spent watching the two boys with her father.

Gohan showed Dende all kinds of acrobatics and Dende showed Gohan some of his own tricks, like making things materialize out of nothingness the way Piccolo had shown he could as well when he provided his student with clothes or his sword.

Chi-Chi, under the influence of the lovely weather, the promising luxurious meal she'd be able to put upon the table and, without a doubt, her father, told the boys that Dende could stay as long as he wanted, even allowing him to sleep over if need be.

It was the happiest both Dende as Gohan had been since Namek.

* * *

After another two hours of relentless training, Puar and Bulma still enjoying their mourning-festivities was too much for Vegeta to take. He ignored the woman's mother and the food she immediately placed on the table upon his arrival – wearing the same empty smile plastered on her face she always did – and stormed into the living room.

"I've had enough of this sob-fest! Do you earthlings really have nothing better to do than wallow on such trivial matters?"

The blue-haired beauty and cream-faced feline looked up in shock. They had not expected company, and they'd definitely not expected company to come barge in the way Vegeta did.

Bulma didn't take lightly to his appearance and the words he'd chosen to accompany it with, though. Especially not now he'd chosen to attack her on this particular subject.

"Yamcha is not 'a trivial matter', Vegeta. He happens to be a person – and one very important to us at that. You'd do well to hope that even just **one** person will wallow on you like this someday – although I wouldn't count on it."

"That's ridiculous, woman. It's beside the point, and I'm not weak enough to have a need for anything sappy like that. You whine and you whine and you whine about him, and to what purpose? He's coming back in a matter of weeks!"

"He still earns our mourning."

"Why? So you can get over the guilt-trip that you've been so spoiled with these dragonballs all your life that you can't even fathom what loss **is**? Is that it?!"

Bulma whitened considerably – Vegeta had hit a sore chord – but struck back fast enough.

"You're just angry because you'll never be able to regain what **you**'ve lost.

Besides, you're forgetting who's responsible for this **loss** we've sustained in the first place," she added as an afterthought, looking to sting. Puar, being reasonably frightened of the powerful saiyan, worriedly warned Bulma not to go there. But what neither of them realized was that it had been the heiress's **first** comment that had stung, not the second. The prince's life had fallen apart with the loss of his safety, his freedom, his home and his people: with the loss of everything dear to him until left with nothing but his pride. Pointing out that his anger stemmed from his own painful experiences was **not** the smartest move to make…

Vegeta smiled maliciously, reminding Capsule Corp's heiress very much of the evil saiyan who'd once threatened to kill her on Namek if Krillin wouldn't hand over their dragonball.

"How could I forget?"

"Don't start looking at me like you enjoyed it, you bastard!"

His lips curled. "But I **did**. Every single bit of it."

Bulma took a step away from him and Puar fled the room. It was times like these when she wondered why she'd ever invited him into her home…

"You don't mean that."

"Seeing the weakling perish was invigorating," he ploughed on.

"You don't mean that."

"Seeing that saibaman self-destruct on him was the best thing I've ever seen."

"**You** – **don't** – **mean** – **that**," she persisted fiercely.

The saiyan snarled angrily.

"I'd be a little more careful in assuming what I do and do not mean, **girl**."

"And **I**'d be a little more careful in playing with my hospitality like this."

Vegeta closed in on her and put his hands on the wall behind her with her frail figure in between, locking her there. She could feel his hot breath on her cheeks and shivered.

"You think you know so much about the universe… You think you know so much… But let me tell you this, woman… You know **nothing**."

"Then **what** don't I know?" she questioned defiantly.

"You sicken me."

"**What** – **don't** – **I** – **know**?!" she demanded again, furious now. How could he expect her to understand something he didn't even tell!

The saiyan prince felt his temper rise. His blood was boiling. Who did she think she was?! She'd never endured a thing unless she'd sought out the trouble herself, she could fix anything that went wrong in her life – and she dared lecture **him**… She knew nothing about him. Nothing!

"That if you'd lived anywhere else – you'd be dead or enslaved. And you'd have earned it."

His whole composure stood lethal and threatening, but even with her back against the wall, Bulma Briefs of Capsule Corporation was too stubborn to back down.

"Just because **you**'ve hurt, I don't have to hurt alongside you."

All thought left Vegeta as he grabbed the scruff of her jacket through a red haze and lifted her up. For the first time Bulma noticed the cuts and abrasions on his face, which only made him seem more dangerous than he was already acting at present time.

But just when the blue-haired female was convinced the prince was on the verge of doing something to her, Puar, who had apparently fled the room to get help, entered with Bunny in her wake. Within seconds, all thought left Vegeta again.

He released the defiant beauty and slammed the door to the living room shut behind him before anyone could react, leaving a quite flustered party of people behind.

"Are you all right dear? Puar told me you were having some trouble."

Bulma scrambled up, patting the dust off her clothes.

"Yeah I'm fine – Vegeta was just being a bit selfish."

"Selfish?! But you know what he said! And just now –!" the floating feline squeaked.

"Don't worry about that, Puar. He just has a hard time looking at things from an earthling's point of view every now and then. He'll turn around."

"If- if you really think so…"

Puar was surprised at Bulma's calm, relaxed attitude after having just been dangled in the air like that. Actually, it surprised the cerulean-haired scientist herself. Even if unwittingly so, it seemed she'd learned a great deal about Vegeta these past months. She wasn't even worried about running into him later that night after this, well – incident. That was all it really felt like: it had been an incident, all had been said, and they'd both move on, the saiyan automatically following the example she'd set. It was just how she'd found it working.

* * *

Dende watched the sleeping form of his friend quietly from his sleeping bag. Gohan's mouth was slightly open, but he didn't snore. His sensitive hearing could pick up his regular breathing loud and clear though. But he didn't mind: he'd always found sleeping people a really peaceful sound. After all, people only ever really slept like that when they felt safe…

He still couldn't believe he was here, at this house, on earth. It had taken him a lot of time to find the courage to **try** and ask Bulma for help – and in the end, her mother was the one who'd arranged this, and now he was even **sleeping** here.

This was too good to be true, wasn't it? But when you really thought about it, it was kind of strange he was friends with an inhabitant of earth like this. The other Nameks were friendly with the earthlings, but nobody was as close to them as he was. It was just that he'd spent so much time with Gohan and Krillin, who'd saved him from the clutches of Dodoria. He'd gotten used to them, even attached… One thing was certain: he would be sorry to leave the earth and all of his newly found friends behind when the time came.

* * *

Vegeta was restless when she found him on the living room couch after midnight. His eyes kept scanning his surroundings. **Way** too alert.

The artificial light in the room seemed eerie without the sounds and flickers of the television screen accompanying it and she noticed that the flowers Bunny had put in a vase on the coffee table a couple of days ago had already withered.

"Hey Vegeta." His eyes locked with hers. She smiled and sat down beside him, free from any worry in the world.

She could practically feel the storm raging in the conflicted prince, and for the first time, she became aware that she wanted to console him, touch him, stroke him…

The sudden realization froze her and worry fluttered into her stomach.

When had she ever started feeling that way about Vegeta? When had she started caring so deeply? That man made her life miserable!

No, there had to be a logical explanation for this… Sure, he made her life miserable to a certain extent, but at the same time, his unpredictability made him exciting to be around for an adventurous girl such as herself. His biting intelligence kept her on edge, his ambivalent behavior kept her wondering, and he wasn't **just** a killer. Hadn't Goku given proof of that?

But the problem was that even though he was more than 'just' someone who'd committed mass-genocide, he was also the someone who'd killed her boyfriend… Sure, technically he hadn't done the job himself, but the saibaman that **had** had simply been his tool, doing as **he** desired. And he didn't seem to regret it, either – referring to Yamcha as 'weak' repeatedly and even saying he'd enjoyed it this evening. And the bad thing was that even though Bulma couldn't deny all of this – it just didn't seem so relevant to her. Whenever she set eyes on the brooding prince, those facts were discarded as easily as the napkins her mom always insisted on putting on the dinner table. Maybe it was a physical problem – that guy was too damned attractive for his own good! That was probably it. A biological sensation that was only natural: something she could easily neglect. She had nothing to worry about.

"I'm going to bed. See ya."

And she went; cheery but still slightly wary of touching her boyfriend's killer.

He watched her leave. His eyes had dulled after the venom they'd spat when he'd gone to confront the female. Her assumptions still left him with a vague sense of frustration and infringement. He didn't "hurt" – and he **definitely** didn't want someone 'to hurt alongside him'. He wanted everyone to stay the fuck away from him! Especially her…

She wanted to make him just as needy and weak as all those other sentimental earthlings. And there was no arguing with her – she was convinced of whatever she wanted to be convinced of. If she thought she figured something out – she considered it a universal truth the people around her just needed a little time to adjust to. But she could keep trying to fit him into the picture of someone who **needed** things for all he cared. If her brain was too small to comprehend anything else, it was not **his** problem. It wasn't.

But the frustration kept building as he sat there – and when he finally stood up, he went straight for the door and into the sky. No-one made him feel subjected to another's whims and got away with it. **No-one**. But then again, **he** was the one letting her get under his skin like this…

One way or another; it didn't really matter when it came around to it. Only a punishing training session would be able to still his mind now. The only way to stop this would be to put his body through hell, which was **exactly** what he planned to do.

* * *

**A/N:** Anyone notice the wonderful job both Bulma as Vegeta are doing when it comes to lying to themselves? ;)

As won't surprise you, next chapter will pretty much pick off from here. It all leads towards a scene I already wrote after writing chapter 13. The chapter will be called "To Belong". And that's all the spoiling I'm going to do ^^. Hope you've enjoyed, please review! Any kinds of comments (besides flaming) are always appreciated =).


	19. To Belong

**Author's Notes:** It's now exactly 1:00 AM on the fourth of January here and I've finished the chapter. It's a long one and I hope it'll live up to your expectations. Again – I just can't find the right words to express how much I appreciate all of your wonderful, encouraging reviews. I hope to be able to respond to them personally soon, but if things go as planned, I'm going to spend a weekend at my fosterdad's starting next Friday. Which should mean I can upload this chapter on the eighth and try and respond as well that weekend =).

Anyway, thanks for everyone's support and for the Christmas and New Year-wishes. I hope to have internet in my new home around the fifteenth of January… fingers crossed! It'll be good to not have to pass all of your reviews a quick glance when on the library-computer where I actually have to search the internet for my homework, lol.

Oh, and about the request of some of you for a sequel: yes, I will write one. I already know the title and have even made notes on various scenes. It was almost inevitable to write a sequel, as the ideas automatically formed while writing this foundation-laying story. Originally I did plan to take a break between my 130 days story and that of the 3 years, and I may still try to in spite of my own enthusiasm – I at least want to take into account that 'The 130 Days' will comprise of either 24 or 25 chapters and that I have exams in May and July. The thing is – I just don't know how realistic 'taking a break' is. I can't stop writing ;-)

I'm refraining from making any promises about how long it will take until I continue this story in its sequel (after I've finished this one, obviously), but I do promise the sequel will come. So if you're keen for more: just keep an eye out and it'll be fine =).

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

* * *

Chapter 19: To Belong

When she went downstairs after a good night's sleep, she found that Vegeta was already eating breakfast. She eyed him for a while before sitting down. He looked… well, ghastly.

"What?!" the saiyan spat angrily. He couldn't bear to have the woman stare at him with those blue orbs of hers. Why couldn't she just stay out of his sight?

Bulma shrugged her head, fetched a plate with toast and sat down at the table. The prince eyed her for a while, making sure she wasn't going to be doing anything else that bothered him, but it seemed she really was minding her own business now. Good.

The cerulean-haired diva wondered what Vegeta could have possibly been doing to himself all night. He didn't look like he'd slept. In fact, he looked quite beaten up. His open abdomen looked rather bruised to say the least. And it was obvious that he'd not spent time yet to clean off the blood and dirt on his visage.

Worry and anger flooded through her without leaving her able to prevent it from breaking through. Why the hell did that arrogant ape feel the need to beat himself up like that? It was senseless! And dangerous too. Goku never played with his life like that while training…

At the same time, she realized the intensity of her worries of the previous day about Yamcha and how much she'd come to care about his killer paled in comparison to that of the emotions she immediately felt when seeing Vegeta in a state like this. She swallowed.

That lack of concern regarding the things that mattered wasn't a good sign, was it? Maybe she'd picked up some kind of viral disease on Namek that messed with female hormones…

But even if it wasn't an illness, her hormones had been going haywire for a while now, anyway. It was only natural: a lot of strange things had brought about excessive changes in her life in a relatively short period of time. Her on-again off-again relationship with Yamcha, Piccolo changing sides, Radditz, Goku dying, dragonball-hunting and waiting for the saiyans, Yamcha, Tien and Chaozu dying, going off to Namek, Vegeta changing sides, both Krillin as Goku dying again… And now she was living on the compound again on earth, but it was with a bunch of Piccolo-lookalikes, Piccolo himself, and a confused saiyan who didn't seem to have decided on being either good or evil yet… Come to think of it, that **was** a bit much.

"'Geta?"

He sent her a death-glare. Not only did she take the liberty to address him, she also took the liberty to belittle him by using his name like that! He knew she'd done it before – but it hadn't infuriated him as much as it did right now. She'd better make it short.

"**What?!**"

She cocked a blue eyebrow. "No reason to be all annoyed with me. I was just wondering if you've been beating yourself up like that the **whole** night, and if you were still planning to rinse your face of the dirt. That's not a handsome sight, you know."

"Humph. As if I'd care about anything superficial like that."

"Well I do. And since you're in **my** house, I'd appreciate it if you could do something about it."

"No-one orders me around, woman."

"Funny, I thought I just did."

Vegeta slammed his hands upon the table in barely contained rage and stood up, turning to leave while his plate was still filled with toast and sandwiches.

"Way to control yourself, princy-boy," Bulma mocked. She hadn't noticed she was so frustrated with him until she'd opened her mouth. She just couldn't find a smidgen of respect left for him after how he'd behaved yesterday and how he was acting again this morning.

He turned, facing her again.

"I don't need a lecture on self-control from **you**, woman. Of all people… You have some nerve."

"Well it's a good thing I have nerve then, isn't it? I wouldn't have done or reached half the things I have in my life if I'd lacked it."

"Nonsense. You've reached what you've reached by blatant stupidity, not nerve."

"Whatever, Vegeta. At least you've still admitted I **have** nerve. Can't take that back, now can you?"

The saiyan gritted his teeth and sat down again, starting to eat without another word. Bulma let it slide as well and continued her meal. It was too early for spats like this…

* * *

Dende and Gohan were running around in the woods surrounding Mount Paoz. The extreme politeness of the young Namekian boy and their well-made homework the day before had softened Chi-Chi somewhat. Maybe having a friend over wasn't that counterproductive to her boy's studies, after all… And so the two children were having fun and getting rid of some of their energy, although it was no secret that Gohan had a lot more of that than Dende did.

"Catch me if you can!"

"I'm trying, I really am."

The green youngster was pretty much out of breath and his friend slowed down somewhat, laughing heartily. "Maybe you should try some of your own tricks to catch me. There's no foul play possible in this game, honest! Just try whatever you can, okay?"

And he increased his speed again. Dende looked at his fading form, surprised. Did he really mean that?

He closed his eyes and concentrated with all his might, feeling out Gohan's rapidly moving ki-signature and closing in on it with some of his own energy. There!

He ran towards his friend who had just released himself from a huge butterfly-net and stood looking at him with a huge grin plastered on his face. "That was awesome, Dende!"

A red blush appeared on his lush-green cheeks. So he really had meant that materializing things was allowed…

After that, both boys spent time digging into their own talents and advantages to catch or find each other, depending on the game they were playing.

One time, the half-saiyan hadn't been able to find his Namekian friend until he'd appeared out of a bush after fifteen minutes of fruitless searching. With a suppressed ki-signature and the same color as his hiding-place, the game had been made a bit too hard for the demi-saiyan.

It was a morning of boundless laughter and merriness and both were sorry to say their goodbyes.

* * *

He'd gone off to train again after breakfast as if there was no second to spare. It was the second day in a row of this new, harsh regime, and he hadn't slept since it had started. That damned cat-creature had ruined everything. Everything!

The woman had at least been a source of entertainment before the thing had come around. But whatever she was to him right now, it was definitely **not** entertainment.

How dared she refer to what he'd lost in his life so shamelessly when she didn't even know what pain was? When she knew nothing about him! And how dare she accuse him of the trivial human weakness of "hurting", and even of wanting **her** 'to hurt alongside him'…

In actuality, he felt betrayed. Betrayed that she'd confront him with his losses in front of the creature of that scar-faced weakling. Betrayed that she'd confront him with the power she held over him by knowing of his nightmares and confusion. That she'd confront him with his dependency on her like that, and brutally assume him to expect things from her he didn't.

The betrayal coursed through his veins and seeped into his ki as he threw spheres around him of a dark red, blasting the steep mountains in the desert-landscape he'd chosen for his relentless training. When there was no mountain left in his vicinity, it had finally been enough. His shoulders slumped. It wasn't even noon yet…

* * *

"Bye, Gohan. We'll see each other again soon, right?"

A young black-haired boy with milk-colored skin smiled brightly at his friend and nodded fiercely. "Of course we will! Thanks a lot for the visit Dende; it was loads of fun having you."

The green boy smiled. "No problem, Gohan. I had a great time as well."

And the Namekian child took to the sky, sending a last wave of goodbye to his half-human friend before he set out to the rest of his kind in West City.

"Solong! See ya!"

A black-haired woman in traditional wear took her son by the shoulders.

"He's gone now, Gohan. Time for some homework."

"Yes, mom."

And the Son-family went into their home on Mount Paoz again.

* * *

Bulma had been trying to make herself a little something ever since breakfast. She'd taken a break from the company and she wasn't feeling like doing anything serious, but making a fun gadget for herself shouldn't be that much of a problem.

So she'd put on an outfit she could easily work in and had gathered her tools. It was nearing twelve o'clock when she'd finally created a ring that could sing the time and that could even be used as an alarm-clock if you knew to push the right (small) buttons. She was pleased with herself and had only just started to wonder why she didn't choose to create fun projects like this more often instead of hanging in front of the TV when Vegeta entered the kitchen.

"Hi."

Way to go, Bulma… saying hi like that sounds kind of lame when the one you're greeting is making a point of ignoring you.

Capsule Corp's heiress began clearing the table of the tools she'd used while Vegeta searched the kitchen for something edible. He soon found a batch of pre-made sandwiches Bunny always seemed to keep in stock ever since he'd moved in and sat down, using the patch of table that was already cleared of the female's tools.

"It's twelve o'clock, twelve o'clock, twelve o'clock in the afternooooooon!" suddenly sang the newly made ring that had still been lying on the mahogany table.

"What the hell is that supposed to be, woman?!"

"I'll tell you when I hear a 'hello' first, moron."

"Oh c'mon! Just get that crazy earth contraption away from me!"

"You've obviously never seen a singing ring before."

"And you've obviously never seen me angry before!"

"I see you angry the entire friggin' time. I'm getting quite sick of it, to be frank."

They glared at each other persistently. The hint of play that was usually present in their arguments, whether they were diminutive or not, was nowhere to be found. Their words were nothing but the surface to tons of confusion and frustration.

"Just what on earth is going on with you, Vegeta? You weren't yourself yesterday and you aren't yourself today. I just don't understand why you have to be like this."

"As if you'd ever understand a thing."

"There's a lot of things I understand and you know very well I do. What are you afraid of?"

"Would you just **stop** suggesting these crazy things?! I'm the prince of all saiyans; I'm not afraid of **anything**. Got it? Stop insinuating I'm someone I'm not!"

Bulma's eyes widened at the words his gruff voice uttered, surprised.

"I don't know **what** I've done in your eyes, but I'm not trying to suggest you're anyone else than you are, Vegeta. You're you and I'm just fine with that. I'm not aware of having insinuated anything at all. **Anything** – **at** – **all**. Okay?"

He looked up at her with his feverish, charcoal eyes. His face was still blood-stained. It was almost painful to lay your eyes on. You could see where blood had trickled over his features from a wound somewhere underneath his hair. Suddenly, she just couldn't bear it.

"Please – would you just cleanse your face…"

He didn't respond and she walked towards him quietly, turning him towards the mirror above the kitchen-sink by the gentle touch of her hand to his back.

"Just look at yourself. You're a mess."

The saiyan prince looked at his reflection. He hadn't really realized how he'd look after all that savage training, and although he wasn't really shocked, he still felt slightly taken aback.

Her left hand was still on his back and now she was trailing his chest-plate with her right, stopping at his open abdomen, touching it, ignoring the flinch Vegeta gave as if she'd given him a high voltage shot of electricity.

"And what the hell did you do to even bruise and cut your stomach like this?"

He shied away from looking at his reflection in the mirror, trying to wriggle out of her grasp. He could not bear to have her warmth surround him like that… it was too much.

"Don't…"

His voice came out soft and husky, a mere whisper consisting of one simple word that had been more of a plea than the usual order.

He tried to remove her hand from the hole he'd made Krillin create in his armor with his own, looking into nothingness while he tried to nudge it away without applying even the slightest bit of force. Even though the saiyan prince tensed at her touch, squeezing his eyes shut as if in pain, he gave Bulma her own choice to make about whether or not to comply.

She stroked his bruised abdomen with her thumb one last time before she removed her hand herself and went to stand beside him, her left hand moving towards his right shoulder.

"Just rinse it already." Her voice was gentle, but urgent. She removed her hand and took a few steps away from him, giving the prince the space he needed. Then, she waited.

After a couple of minutes went by and that stupid ring started to sing it was now fifteen minutes past twelve, Vegeta finally gave in. He looked weary when he turned to look at her again, but at least his face was clean.

* * *

"Hi Piccolo and Nail. I'm back," Dende smiled up at the tall Namekian who seemed less grumpy than when he'd left the day before.

"Hey kid, we'd started to wonder where you were at. With your earthling friend, I guess?" came the throaty voice of Nail. The young boy smiled. Piccolo didn't give Nail the front seat that often.

"Yes, I was with Gohan. I was even allowed to sleep over at his place, and today we got to play the whole morning!"

"Sounds like you two had a great time," Piccolo's voice resounded through that of the Namek with who he shared his body.

"Yes, we really had."

The older Namek laid his dark-green hand between the spring-green antennae of Dende, smiling down at the child. Dende was pleased. Whatever had caused the Namek's moodiness the day before; it was pretty much gone now.

"Do you want to come with me and see how Mori is doing with his golf, Piccolo?"

"What?! No way!"

Gohan's enthusiastic presumptuousness was rubbing off on his Namekian friend, wasn't it?

"Well, you can stay and meditate if you want, of course. But I'm going to watch."

And with those words, Dende walked off cheerily. Yup… that was Gohan's doing. Piccolo smiled against his will, Nail coming to the surface again. It was good for Dende to have someone his own age stimulate him to be a bit more easygoing at times.

The Namek shrugged it off angrily, crossing his arms across his chest and proceeding to meditate. Nail really had lied when saying nothing would change… yuck.

* * *

The always so energetic vixen felt exhausted and disillusioned when she finally sat down on the couch that afternoon. Dealing with Vegeta really took its toll sometimes. He'd wanted to go off and train **again**. As if he hadn't been at it the entire night already. Come to think of it, he'd probably been at it since yesterday morning.

It had taken quite some convincing, but she'd seen to it that he'd gone to bed to get some rest in. She'd secretly waited outside of his bedroom for a couple of minutes, looking out for suspicious sounds that indicated his departure through the window, maybe. After five minutes had passed by, she'd taken her chances and glanced into the room. That obstinate man… he was already in a state that resembled unconsciousness a lot better than it did sleep.

It was just… painful. Seeing him like that. Maybe it shouldn't be painful. Maybe she shouldn't care. But there it was: she did.

But why should that be bad? Was it really a threat to the love she felt for Yamcha? Certainly not… they'd grow old together; they'd always been meant to do so. Despite all their fights and the jealousy that had come with Yamcha's baseball-related popularity that didn't do them much good combined with him having gotten over his fear of women and, thereby, his female fan-base, their love had always been true and tender. They had met on her journey to wish for the perfect boyfriend for a reason, right? And she'd made him into the person he was today all by herself. He was imperfect, but he was hers, completely.

Maybe he wasn't the smartest guy or the most talented guy, and maybe he didn't really pose a challenge to her like he did in the very beginning, or match up to her as an equal… but who needed that, right?

No, the only threat this could pose to her relationship with Yamcha was that Yamcha might feel a bit different about Vegeta, seeing he'd sort of been responsible for the death of both himself as Tien and Chaozu. Not to mention the Namekians of that one village on Namek and all the people he'd slaughtered over the years in the name of Frieza.

But Gods, you just needed to be around the man twenty-four hours a day for a couple of weeks and you'd know exactly what she meant! He was a victim of that monster, not a perpetrator. He tried to think of himself as one and he tried to act like one, but when you spent that much time with him, you'd be extremely dumb if you didn't notice it was just a façade.

Even though some of the Nameks would probably find her strange for thinking that way, having lost their planet and living such innocent, isolated lives and all, she even felt he was more of a victim than they had ever been. And seeing as she was the only one who'd seen beyond the façade, he needed her help and her friendship. And having known nothing but misery in his life, she really felt he earned it, too.

He should get the chance to experience something different… He should get the chance to experience that touching didn't always have to be a synonym to hurting, but could have to do with healing, as well. He should get the chance to experience that he could be 'weak', without it immediately being used against him. He should get the chance to experience people accepting and even liking him. He should get the chance to experience how different the world could be and how it could feel to have an actual safe home to return to. And if it'd turn out Yamcha didn't have room for that, he could just buzz off for all she cared.

She stood up and made herself a cup of strawberry-flavored tea. She wished her mom was around to do this for her, but she'd gone to the annual party with the tea-club she'd founded years ago, when Bulma had still been little. Her dad had gone too; Bunny always made sure to plan the party on the very same day that her father's most important conference happened to be. It was one of those conferences where she could only get in the way and to still have something special to do like her husband had, she'd chosen to solve the problem this way.

The blue-haired heiress sighed. Maybe she should get some sleep in herself. She felt positively drained and she didn't feel like she was up to concentrating on anything remotely worthwhile. She took a glance at the digital clock in the living room. 3:15 huh? Well, some shut-eye wouldn't be **that** bad… It would take a while before she had to put the dinner of herself and the prince in the oven anyway…

After finishing her tea she took the couch to herself and closed her eyes, not bothering to take her shoes off despite the reprimand she'd given Vegeta about sitting with his boots on the couch at times. It wasn't as if he was around to see…

* * *

Fuck! Bulma had woken up to the living room clock beeping **seven** times. How could she possibly have slept that long?! And with a bit of bad luck, Vegeta would have woken up eons ago and gone off to bash his body again.

She ran upstairs, not bothering to be inconspicuous in the multitude of sound she made while doing so. When she opened Vegeta's door, however, she was quick to notice her ruckus had been unnecessary. He lay upon his blankets, sprawled onto his side with atypical unkemptness, not a piece of clothing taken off, still completely out of it. She walked towards his passed out form carefully, putting a hand to his forehead. The heat that immediately radiated through her fingers felt abnormal. Was his temperature too high or was this natural for a saiyan? The signs weren't all right, though. He was practically comatose and she knew he had to have a couple of wounds that hadn't been tended to. Maybe she ought to try and give him some antibiotics, but she wasn't sure about it. He didn't want her help and sleeping was a good thing, for starters…

She pulled her hand away when he groaned. He didn't wake up, but she noticed he'd made fists and that he was starting to twist and turn. Dreaming again, huh? She stayed by his bedside until she thought she saw him calm down somewhat, then went downstairs to put the stews into the oven. She'd wake him when she could present him with something to eat… he was a saiyan, so food always helped, right? At least nourishment was healthy.

* * *

"What's the matter, Vegeta? Wasn't this what **you** were supposed to be?"

Kakarot was leering down at him with teal eyes that lacked pupils, a golden aura surrounding him and forcing his hair upwards, defying gravity the way it had always only done in those part of the royal bloodline.

"Shut up! Just shut up!"

"Can't stand it, can you?" the low-class smiled with an unbearable hint of pity and understanding hinted beneath his contemptuous sarcasm.

"And wasn't this what **you** were supposed to do?" he questioned, suddenly holding the icy tyrant that had kept the saiyan prince as a toy and a trophy like a lifeless puppet.

"Get out of my way and I'll do it right now!" the prince screamed as he charged.

But Frieza vanished and the dream-version of Goku stepped aside, leaving the other saiyan to fall with his face in the mud.

"You can't. Didn't he kill you? Didn't you ask me to take on the job in your place yourself and vouch your trust in me? Didn't you beg? Didn't you **cry**?"

Anguished and derided, the saiyan prince attacked his lesser in a fury. But it had only been to be knocked aside by Zarbon, the super saiyan suddenly gone. The golden-eyed man enjoyed kicking him to his stomach until he had no breath left, and then his surroundings faded until he lay sprawled upon the floor of his master's throne room.

There he lay like a lifeless puppet, scar after scar being forged as the tyrant punished him for having destroyed the gem that ought to have enhanced his wine, the tail thrashing and thrashing against the bare skin of his back…

"Vegeta! Vegeta! Please wake up… Vegeta!"

Someone was shaking him… The images of his dream were fading; leaving him with a vague sensation of unease as he slowly became aware of his present surroundings.

Blue eyes… Bulma.

He shook his head, closed and opened his eyes a couple of times and sat up. He was drenched in cold sweat and had somehow tangled one of his legs in what was left of his torn sheets. He unwrapped it scrupulously, glad of an excuse to not have to see eye to eye with the woman.

He recalled the taunts of Kakarot in a flash of pain and discomfiture. And it didn't matter how different the low-class saiyan's conduct could be in actuality. It didn't matter. He was the embodiment of Vegeta's humiliation and of all the condescension his past had shackled him with, and in his dreams, that was what he became, and in reality, that was what his good-humored teasing felt like. The only reason Vegeta tolerated him and his remarks was because he knew him to be stronger. His past had taught him to bide his time near anyone stronger than him. And that was exactly what he did near Kakarot. And that was why he had to live.

"I'll replace those sheets for you. But there's food now… you should be hungry."

Without passing her a glance, the warrior prince nodded and stood up.

* * *

"We're eating on the couch?"

"Well what did you expect? Do you see my mom and dad around anywhere to tell us not to?"

Beside himself and the bad day he was having, Vegeta smirked. That woman could be such a spoiled brat when it came around to it. She seemed more like a girl when acting so feisty, and the way she acted made it seem more like she wanted to oppose a regime than resist a petty parental preference. He still couldn't help but appreciate her spirit. It was almost saiyan.

"Dig in," she invited, gesturing towards the various stews in glass bowls she'd placed upon the coffee-table and the spoons that lay beside them. "And there's more where that came from, so don't worry about growing hungry."

She grabbed a spoon and a bowl herself; putting it between her knees she tucked up to her chin as she leisurely snuggled into the fabric of the couch.

The displaced saiyan observed her for a while before taking place beside her and following her example. They ate in an almost amiable quiet that formed a welcome, replenishing interval, breaking the intensity of their day.

* * *

"So did you get rid of that silly ring?"

Bulma looked at him sideways in surprise. They had finished their meal about half an hour ago and had remained on the couch ever since then, watching a blank TV-screen, both immersed in their own respective worlds. She hadn't expected Vegeta to suddenly engage her in small-talk, though. That singing ring must have really bugged him.

"I did disable it and put it away for now, but I definitely didn't get rid of it, and I don't plan to, either. I'm going to show it to my mom as soon as she gets back."

"That's ridiculous. What do you want with a thing like that? Wear it as jewelry?"

"**No**."

"Then what's the point to it?"

"The point is that it's ingenious!"

"That's no reason to keep it."

"It is to me. You just want me to get rid of it because you hate the sound it makes."

He gritted his teeth.

"Who wouldn't?"

"My mom will love it and I think it's pretty amusing myself. And my dad will appreciate the technological aspect; so really, everyone in **my** family's happy enough."

"Your family's crazy."

The blue-haired heiress laughed.

"Even so, you don't want to put too much strain on that royal brain of yours by worrying about it this much. I promise I won't have that ring enabled with you around."

Vegeta turned his head away grumpily. "Hn."

A couple of moments passed by in silence, but Capsule Corp's heiress had started eyeing the prince with curiosity until she finally took her chance now that he'd started up conversation himself anyway.

"What are you going to do when Goku gets back?"

He turned his face towards hers again with a searching look, black, gravity-defying locks framing his tanned features.

"Watch him until I'm privy to the secret. Become a super saiyan."

"I know – but I actually meant after that."

What did she want him to tell her? That he'd kill Kakarot and maybe her along with the rest of earth so that he'd have erased everything that represented humiliation, completely freeing himself? That he'd travel into space, tracking down all followers of the Cold Empire and destroying them? Maybe even leaving them be after having settled the score with Kakarot…

It was unnerving. He didn't know what she wanted to hear. Maybe she just wanted reassurance that he'd leave her compound so that he'd no longer 'impose upon her hospitality', as she loved to put it. He was at least sure she was going to screech if he talked about killing or destroying anything – so that was not an option.

"I'll defeat Kakarot, proving my saiyan birthright once and for all. Then, I'll leave."

"Where to?"

He shrugged. "Anywhere different from this mud-ball of weaklings."

"Why? Is earth so bad?"

"This planet is demeaning, woman."

"What about it is?"

"The weakness and stupidity of the population, the peace and the ridiculous need for entertainment to make up for it. This planet is unbefitting for a saiyan warrior."

"If you say so. We have the dragonballs though. And for some reason, we've never really stayed clear of planet-threatening villains coming around once in a while. So there's always new opportunities to test out your strength after periods of peace."

Vegeta looked at her in disbelief. Was she actually trying to convince him to stay?

"I won't transform into another one of you weak, soft-hearted earthlings, woman. And I won't join your band of crazy planet protectors, either. As soon as I've reclaimed my birthright and regained my honor, I'm out of here."

Bulma sighed dejectedly, disheartened.

"I'd wish you wouldn't think of everyone here as 'weak' and 'soft' all the time, Vegeta. In those things you consider 'weak' lies quite a unique strength, you know."

The prince snorted callously. "Yeah, I'm sure."

But that attitude hit the wrong chord with Bulma Briefs, and in a flash, fire roared up in her ocean irises and she stood up, facing the man still sitting on the right edge of the couch.

"Would you **stop** behaving like that?! Disrespectful ape! You really think you know everything, but nothing has proved your ignorance more than living here has. If you continue to believe in those **insane** notions of strength and weakness, I swear to Kami; it's going to be your downfall. That so-called strength you possess has a lot of breaches and flaws, Vegeta, and covering them up and side-stepping them won't always work. And what you call weakness is stronger than you think it is. People who show mercy and have a heart and feel for people around them who suffer gather strength from the need to protect. Strength you apparently will **never** be able to wrap your teeny-tiny mind around, you thick man!"

Vegeta stood up as well, facing her with unwavering eyes.

"Get over yourself. A need to protect only ensures that your enemy will abuse the people you feel for to get to you. A need to protect only serves to tear great warriors apart when they fail; leaving them too pitifully weak to even fight for their lives. I've seen enough perish that way and let me tell you this, woman: it won't be my fate. I was born for something greater and no matter the cost, I will achieve it or die trying. I won't discard my pride for anything."

Her bright blue eyes started to water with emotion, but she still clung to her anger and frustration as if it were the last two things she owned in the whole wide world.

"You're wrong, Vegeta. You're just **wrong**."

The saiyan couldn't stand it any longer. Why the hell had she dragged him into this conversation in the first place? What was her purpose? Why did **she** care so much? **He** was the one who was actually quite clueless as to what to do with his life after becoming a super saiyan, and he had Kakarot to thank for that.

"What do you **want**, woman?"

Before she could think, the answer to the question the saiyan had posed to her once before suddenly blurted out.

"For you to see earth as your home – not as just another passing stage, a spot on your façade, a minor setback on a way to greatness. I want this to be your **home**."

He looked at her, completely puzzled. No-one had wished anything like that for him before… nor had he ever known a home after being taken from the red orb known as Vegeta.

Finally, he answered, gazing into her eyes intently.

"I don't belong here, woman. The place I belong to is long gone. My sole purpose in life has been to destroy the one who took that place away from me. On Namek, Kakarot stripped me of that purpose. I have nothing, woman. And I don't belong anywhere."

"But you _could_…"

It was as if it was an offer rather than a clarification of a possibility.

It was as if she'd said: "Stay, and I'll help you belong."

It was a primal offer, calling out a primal response – but he couldn't afford to get primal here.

Allowing primal instincts to take over would render him vulnerable – open to attack. So as much as he felt the five-year-old roaring inside of him: for a home, a mother, a haven; he was forced to decline. It was a matter of survival. Weakening was not an option.

"But I won't."

His voice was harsh and ruthless.

A perfectly round teardrop maintained its shape on the floor for a while – quivering – until it burst like Bulma's heart.

Vegeta left the chamber without a single look back, leaving the blue nymph in agony, shedding her tears for the prince too damaged to open his heart.

* * *

Bulma watched Vegeta from the living room window. He was sitting against the spaceship in the garden again, stargazing or whatnot.

She sighed. Sometimes, she just couldn't lay her finger on him. Foreign and familiar at the same time, he always slipped away just when she thought she had him nailed down.

But then again, that was probably exactly what attracted her to the saiyan prince – with his strange, contradictive behavior; he posed a challenge to her intelligence. Inadvertently, the man was even making her a better person in a sense. It was no secret that she'd never been one to look beyond the faces people put on towards the outside world, and whether it had been born out of necessity or not, Vegeta'd definitely changed that.

Dealing with Vegeta and trying to pin the source of his actions and lack thereof down had become something of a detective-like game: can you get through the shell to the person hidden inside, or can't you?

She didn't realize that this game provided her with more than just insights. It tied her to the saiyan prince in more extreme and permanent ways than she could possibly imagine now.

The aqua-haired vixen suddenly decided that staring through the window to catch a glimpse of the unapproachable man was pointless, and went into the kitchen to get a bar of chocolate she knew was there.

When she felt the heavenly chocolate melt gently on her tongue, she suddenly came to the realization that she'd been wearing her twilight-colored work-outfit the **entire** day. She almost choked on the piece of chocolate and swallowed, hitting herself on the chest. Well, with only Vegeta around for company, a fashion-wise bad day wasn't **that** bad, she supposed…

And thinking of Vegeta; she just shouldn't be so stupid. She was obviously more intelligent than he could ever dream of, and when he was wrong, he was wrong. Besides, that man was all talk but no action, all bark but no bite. He wasn't aware of half the things he did and said throughout the days he spent here, and whether he liked it or not: he'd settled. Being away from earth for too long would make him come crashing down before too long; he enjoyed and even needed life here more than he could admit or even recognize.

Yes, that was it. No more whining. She had to believe this had already become his home – he just didn't realize it yet. And wherever he'd go – he'd always return here.


	20. Explosions, Candles & MidnightWandering

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

* * *

Chapter 20: Explosions, Candles and Midnight-Wandering

More than two weeks had passed by since the last disastrous conversation between the human heiress and the saiyan prince. Vegeta had avoided Bulma like the plague the first week, only tolerating himself near her at meal-times. He'd spent more time on the roof than anywhere else. By now, things had normalized somewhat. A couple of arguments had defrosted the adamant prince and arguments were a common sound and sight again at the compound, both hot-heads eager to outsmart the other in verbal clashes and claim the victory of that day.

In between arguments it was no rarity for the saiyan to join the blue-haired genius in the living room. If her parents were there as well he'd usually choose the armchair, but they were no longer a reason to run off. What else could he do? Training seemed pointless. He didn't reach super saiyan, and his strength didn't really improve all that drastically. It was more of an activity to pass time than anything else. He might as well wait for Kakarot…

As of today, there were twenty days left to go until the low-class saiyan would be wished back and return to the realm of the living. He was filled to the brim with expectation.

The legend would be his. He was sure of it.

* * *

"You look wonderful today, honey. Natural and just **you**," Bunny smiled up at her adult daughter. Bulma was wearing red jeans, a white shirt that read 'Capsule Corporation' in bold black letters and stylish sneakers. It was plain, but the extravagant amount of attention she'd paid to her blue, loose locks that had lengthened to beneath her shoulder-blades did make it come out more appealing than it would have otherwise. And the fabric of the jeans and shirt snuggled up to her curves in a way that helped as well.

"Huh? Oh thanks… It was actually just something I pulled out of my closet."

The blue-haired genius was pleasantly surprised at her mom's astuteness. Especially since she didn't feel like she'd minded all that much this morning. She'd just sought out something casual that went along with the resolution of 'something red each day' she'd set herself at the start of this August, and had taken some time to do her hair… and that was it.

"You should definitely do that more often, then."

Bulma blushed.

"Sure mom. But could I get some breakfast now? Or lunch? How do you even call it when you sleep in 'til it's far past noon?"

Bunny giggled.

"It's brunch, sweetie. Here, have some toast. I'll make you an omelet. Do you want cheese or something else on it?"

"Just cheese, thanks. Although, do we have pineapple?"

In a matter of minutes, the blue-haired beauty had a perfect omelet with cheese and pineapple parts baked into it, bread, and toast with strawberry-jam to spare. Sometimes it really was wonderful to be rich and have everything you wanted in the world, even if it was just to satisfy these small needs of the moment… She took a bite. Yes: it was wonderful.

* * *

"If I just connect this wire to this one…" the lavender-haired Dr. Briefs babbled to himself and to the cat that sat on his shoulder as he was working in his lab.

He'd been working a lot ever since Bulma had gotten the necessary information on the scouter-technology from Vegeta, even for his standards. But he couldn't remember when the last time had been that something so _interesting_ had crossed his path. Something that gave way to _so_ many possibilities.

And a lot of those possibilities lay scattered on the laboratory-floor at this very moment as unfinished projects, having been discarded for the time being because another possibility had demanded the scientist's attention first.

He could hardly keep up with himself, let alone keep up with time. It seemed to fly by these days, and if it wasn't for his wife's attentions, he would not have slept in weeks without knowing it. He knew he could do without sleep when the image of an invention had started spiraling in his mind. It was something he'd learned from past experience, back when there was no Bunny yet to keep him in the same world. And since their daughter had quit for the time being, she was the only one that troubled herself to do just that.

"Sweetie, are you coming out for dinner?"

He looked up through his glasses vaguely, blinking as if it took some time to recognize her.

"Huh? Dinner, oh, yes. Just go ahead and start without me. I'm really close with this beauty here – I'll stop and come along when I've finished."

"Well, if you're sure. But no more projects after finishing this one, okay, honey?" she requested in her ever so high-pitched casual-sounding voice.

It didn't really seem to affect him as he nodded absentmindedly and she shrugged her shoulders and went upstairs, out of the basement-based lab. Bulma and Vegeta were hungry!

* * *

"Isn't dad coming?"

"He said he had something important to finish," Bunny answered while smiling pleasantly, filling her daughter's plate with a mix of rice, meat and beans.

The blue-haired beauty rolled her eyes.

"He **always** has something important to finish. Inventing the electric toothbrush for a second time can seem just as important to him as inventing a device to influence the weather."

The mom giggled, her blonde curls fluttering slightly.

Vegeta had already started eating, not bothering to pay attention to the senseless chatter of the two female humans or to the ridiculous earthling etiquette that prescribed everyone to start with their meal at the same time. Royalty came first and that was final.

After the fourth helping of the saiyan prince had just reached his plate, a loud 'bang' could be heard from somewhere beneath the house. The lights went out and the company at the dinner table was left in the dark.

"What the hell…?" Bulma's eyes were huge, expressing how startled she was at the sudden explosion. She looked through the window nearest to them. Not **one** other home was without light shining from its innards. They were the most advanced technological company in the world and yet they were also the only house in the damned neighborhood without electricity!

"Da-had!" she shrieked.

There was only one person that could be responsible for this…

The royal saiyan shut his eyes temporarily at the inexcusable amount of sound the woman was producing. He wondered how her human lungs could even put up with it. Shouldn't they break by the sheer pressure she was putting them under?

When she didn't get a response, the fierce female stormed out of the room and towards the laboratory, finding her way on pure instinctual memory.

"Oh my," the blonde ditz let escape into the shady room. Vegeta gritted his teeth. This was unbelievable…

And he started on his fourth helping, pretending no disturbance had ever occurred.

* * *

"So to sum it all up: we have no light, we have no heating or air-conditioning, we have no refrigerator, freezer or oven, or at least none that work, and to make it all worse; dad won't have been able to fix it 'til **way** into the night. Thanks a **lot**, dad!"

Dr. Briefs shuffled his feet guiltily as he stared onto the red carpet, his hands helplessly tucked into his deep lab-coat pockets.

Bunny was putting candles on the coffee table that spread a lotus-scent around the room and the saiyan warrior had taken place on one of the armrests of the armchair, overlooking the scene unfolded before him.

"To think I've always been so **proud** of the fact that we supply our own power and aren't dependent on anyone or anything else! Ugh! We can't even watch TV! And our emergency stack blew up as well! How can we possibly **live** now?!"

Steam was practically coming from Bulma's nose: she was absolutely livid.

"Now, now, honey, there's no need to give your father **that** hard of a time. I'm sure he didn't do it on purpose."

"Not on purpose? Not on purpose? How's **that** supposed to help?!"

"That's not how I raised you: think in solutions, Bulma, not in issues. I'm really sorry about what happened but I can't change it now. What I **can** do is make sure you at least have a bulb of light here in the living room, and I'll bring you that microwave that runs on batteries; I've put it away somewhere for safekeeping but I'm sure I'll find it."

"Oh that's just wonderful; then I can make some warm snacks for everyone. You see sweetie, everything's going to be all right! And it'll all be fixed in the morning."

Bulma's shoulders slumped. She was giving in.

"I guess so…"

And she went to sit on the couch without another glance towards her parents. The husband and wife exited the living room together to get the microwave and make a bulb of light not dependent on electricity, leaving their daughter and their saiyan houseguest quite alone.

Vegeta let himself fall off the armrest and into the chair, putting his hands behind his head leisurely. The turquoise-haired woman turned to look at him.

"Put your boots off if you're going to be sitting like that…"

He smirked, ignoring her request. She rolled her eyes, but then an idea struck her and she addressed him again.

"Why don't you eat what's still in the fridge? It'll all go bad now we can't cool it…"

"I eat when I want to, woman. And in case you didn't notice: I just ate."

"Sheesh, you're a saiyan, it's not as if you couldn't get it in there! Goku wouldn't have given a request like that a second thought!"

"Don't compare me to that pathetic excuse for a saiyan. I won't eat the contents of your refrigerator just because it would convenience you."

"So you're not doing it because you want to get in my way!"

"I'm not doing it because I already ate."

"You said yourself you won't do it because it would convenience me," she pouted. "This is not about whether you're hungry or not: you just want to make me miserable."

The saiyan groaned and ran a hand through his untidy shock of black hair. This female was just impossible to cope with sometimes…

"I'm not discussing this with you. You obviously can't reason right now. _So dependent on this damned electricity-net…_," he mumbled. "It must be interfering with your ability to conjure up the small amount of common sense that still found its way into your idiotic brain. Just give me a heads-up when you're done with the stupid pity-party and I'll speak to you again."

With those words, the prince resolved to close his eyes. Capsule Corp's heiress looked practically assaulted. How could he!

"'I can't reason right now'… what do you mean by that?! Hey! Answer me!"

But the saiyan's eyes stayed firmly closed, not giving way to any indication that they were planning to open.

"Vegeta!"

Just great… he wasn't responding. She wondered if he was even listening.

"Vegeta! C'mon this isn't funny! Talk to me!"

He opened his charcoal eyes tiredly.

"Pity-party over yet?"

"I don't have pity-parties." That sounded almost innocent, as if she was excusing herself like a young child would do when having done something wrong.

"Sure you don't," he replied while shutting his eyes again, sarcasm resounding in every word his deep, gruff voice sent into the room.

"Fine then, don't talk to me and just sit there!" she screamed angrily, folding her arms together in front of her chest and tearing her gaze off of him, to the wall. Stupid man… as if it would really be that much trouble for him to just eat everything they still had left in the fridge.

An angry silence passed over the two of them like a veil until the heiress's parents entered the living room again, Dr. Briefs with a perfectly working bulb of light he went to put on the ceiling with a hook and some thread and Mrs. Briefs with a perfectly working microwave that was already radiating heat and had working lamps and herb-butter bread on the inside.

"I thought I'd lift the mood by making a nice snack for everyone. And I had another great idea as well –" she giggled mischievously as she put the microwave on the carpet and took some books out of a cupboard in the furniture-piece the TV stood on as well, "photo-albums!"

Bulma sweat-dropped.

"C'mon mom, is that really necessary?"

"Not so judgmental, honey. There are so many Kodak-moments in these books that there are bound to be some pictures in here that will make you smile, I promise you!" she claimed heartily as she sat down beside her daughter. "Let's look at this one first. This is one of my favorites, with a couple of pictures of your childhood and lots of your teenage years."

It was a blue book and when the blue-haired beauty took a closer look, she saw it read 'Our daughter at that age' in black ink. Well thanks a lot mom and dad…

Whenever she had been angry with her parents back when she was about fifteen until she was nearing her twenties and someone else was around, they'd made excuses for her temper, telling the visitor she was "at that age". There was no way to be taken seriously like that!

Annoyed, she allowed her mother to open it, still slightly curious of what would be inside.

"I'm done here," Dr. Briefs interrupted as he climbed off the stair he'd put on the carpet to reach the ceiling. "I'll go and see to it that we have electricity again by morning-time."

"Good luck, darling!"

The album started with a picture of an eight-year-old Bulma wearing a cream dress and bright yellow sneakers, her hair pulled into a pony-tail by a red ribbon, a smudge on her left cheek and a robot she'd made herself beside her. She was smiling smugly into the camera.

It brought back memories and despite her resolve to remain angry throughout the rest of the night for the injustice that had just been inflicted upon her, the genius smiled. She remembered the history behind that picture quite vividly. She had been bored in math-class, where all of the stupid kids weren't able to finish the simple calculations the teacher had asked them to perform… Without a word, she'd left the classroom. Later on, the principal of the school had demanded a meeting with her parents about her 'rebellious conduct'. She'd walked into his office uninvited with her robot in tow, flat-out telling him that she had better things to do than sit around in math-class, like making robots. He hadn't known what to say and from that day on, she'd always been excused from math-class. Dad had been so happy…

Bunny leafed through the album until she found what she was looking for. Here it was: a seventeen-year-old Bulma, her hair in a high braid with a red ribbon like she always put it those days, not taller than the feet of her young mother that stood beside her.

"Ah, there it is. I never understood that crazy invention of yours to make yourself so small."

"Mom, seriously, I think I've told you about that a million times. It was so I could ride Nimbus." Her mother looked at her blankly, so the heiress decided to clarify herself. "Nimbus is the cloud Goku used to ride on, remember? It brought him everywhere he needed to go and came in handy when he was dragonball-hunting. He couldn't fly by himself back then."

"Oh, yes, I remember now. But why did you have to miniaturize yourself to ride that thing?"

A red blush crept onto the eligible female's cheeks, but she willed it away. She had nothing to be ashamed of… it was just a stupid cloud with no sense of intelligence.

"You need to be pure to ride a Nimbus cloud and for some reason, the stupid cloud thought I wasn't – so I fell right through it when I tried to ride it. I think those clouds come from the desert somewhere, where they don't know what beautiful, intelligent, civilized ladies are. But when I miniaturized myself, I could stay in Goku's clothes and travel around on it anyway."

It seemed to have gone over Bunny's head, but she nodded understandingly nonetheless.

Vegeta's eyes had opened, however. He was smiling. This had gotten interesting…

"I don't think it would have mattered if that cloud had come from civilization or not."

"You aren't supposed to be talking to me."

His obsidian eyes glistened with amusement. "Aren't I?"

"No, you aren't. You said I had to give you a heads-up after I'd finished with my supposed 'pity-party', as you chose to call it, and then you'd speak to me again. And I haven't given you a heads-up of any kind, bozo."

He smirked. "Well you still seem to have finished, so it seemed high time to get you back into one."

Bulma squinted, her blue eyes reduced to lethal slits.

"I am as pure as you can get," she stated threateningly.

The haughty saiyan laughed.

"But I am!" she protested.

He stopped laughing and grinned again.

"Why do you even **want** to be pure? It would only make you more moronic than you already are. Considering the insane amount of time you've spent with him as a kid, you should be grateful Kakarot hasn't rubbed off on you too much."

"I'm not moronic," she reiterated stubbornly, only responding to what she took as a personal hurt, leaving the rest of his words for what they were.

The saiyan's smile widened. She was biting more than usually today… it was pitiful for something like electricity to upset her as much, but then again, it gave **him** all the more fun.

Ding!

"Oh, the bread is ready!" Bunny exclaimed. She hurried to find her oven-mitts in the dark kitchen, using one of the candles that were still on the coffee table to find her way. Then she went to get the herb-butter bread out of the microwave and put the slices on the table.

She took one, passing Vegeta and her daughter a glance as she sat down again. The tanned saiyan was still looking at her daughter rather amused, and her daughter was looking back at him with a mixture of hurt and anger only she was able to invoke.

"Oh! I know just what to do to break the tension."

She took the albums and put them into the cabinet's right cupboard again, then started rummaging in one of the drawers. At the end of it, she returned to the couch with a small paper map that looked like it had pictures inside.

"I have a couple of **very** special snapshots in this one!"

The aqua-haired vixen decided that anything was better than looking at Vegeta and took a look at the first photograph her mom was showing her and saw… Vegeta.

"You have pictures of **Vegeta**?!"

Maybe blurting it out like that hadn't been the smartest thing, but she was completely stunned and hadn't been able to help herself. How in the world had her mom managed that? It was quite obvious that they had been made without his consent or awareness, and a very angry, confused and startled saiyan had appeared behind the couch, looking over their shoulders.

The first picture was Vegeta sitting against a tree of their courtyard. She deduced it had to have been the first day he'd been here. A couple of Nameks drinking cups of water were still visible, and there was an untouched Shirley Temple on a table somewhere.

Her mom had always been good at taking sneak-pictures… and whenever she was around, you mostly assumed she was pouring tea or humming… and Bulma knew she thought the saiyan prince to be very handsome… so she guessed she should have seen this coming.

The next fifteen pictures or so had all been taken at times when she and Vegeta had been arguing around the compound. She didn't recognize any of the arguments they had to have had on those days, because it all looked pretty much the same…

Again, there was an easy explanation for how her mom had been able to take these pictures. When they were arguing, they were completely immersed in what they were shouting at each other's heads. The world didn't exist. And Bulma _had_ noticed her mom **loved** to watch…

Her mom had zoomed in on them in one of the pictures. Their noses were almost _touching_ in the heat of an argument. You'd have thought they'd notice something like that…

No matter how dangerous it was with the murderous saiyan so close behind her, the blue-haired genius burst out laughing after seeing the last picture. Brilliant!

Her mom had eternalized the one and only time he had _ever_ fallen asleep on the couch because she'd woken up earlier than he had… Of course it _was_ a bit sad; after all, it had been sort of a tough day for him, and things hadn't really gone all that well when she'd taken him to the bonfire of the Namek kids either… But _still_… Girlish giggles kept leaving her.

Vegeta gritted his teeth. Was there no end to the humiliations the universe seemed to keep in store, just for him? Was this necessary?

Sure, the woman was happy: the roles had been reversed and now **she** was the amused one.

But what the hell had gotten into her mother's head to ignore the common sense of courtesy and privacy like that?! Wasn't she supposed to have a lot of that, seeing as she found it so important to continuously serve every fly that came in her vicinity? But come to think of it, privacy had never been a care for her… nor for her daughter, for that matter.

They kept no distance, and they insisted on breaching into your private world by their mindless chatter…

He felt like ripping the blonde woman's head off, but reconsidered when he remembered she cooked well… then he considered blasting the pictures… the ditz would be slightly upset for a while, but she'd get over it and he didn't expect her cooking to suffer…

But then again, her mind comprised of nothing more than air and helium (sawdust would be giving her too much credit). She was too unconscious of the world around her to be held responsible… that blue lynx beside her, however…

"**Woman**," he started darkly, "You **will** pay for this. Understand?"

The heiress took her time to wipe amused tears out of her eyes and turned to look at him, still having a hard time suppressing her giggles.

"Why? I'm not the one who took the pictures."

"I don't care you're not the one who took them. Someone is going to pay and that **someone** is going to be you."

"Well then I'm glad to hear you've made up your mind about that, I was wondering if you still could since you stayed silent for so long. So how am I going to 'pay', mister big-shot?"

Vegeta squinted and cast a menacing look at Mrs. Briefs that pretty much told her to get the hell out of the room before he changed his mind.

"All right then, I get the message. You kids have fun arguing, and don't forget to take some of the bread; there's still plenty!"

She exited the room quite cheerily and left the saiyan prince startled yet again, his mouth slightly agape, the intimidating stance he was supposed to be composing himself with towards the woman completely forgotten.

Bulma wasn't surprised with her mom's way of coping with the situation at all, but then again, she'd known and dealt with her mom her whole life…

When Vegeta noticed the blue-haired woman was smiling up at him blamelessly he felt his temper rising again, and he destroyed the photographs in a flash. The woman didn't really seem to care, though… she'd had her fun, and he couldn't take it away.

"Done?" she asked pleasantly.

He growled angrily and looked away.

"Aw c'mon Vegeta, face it: we're even. You've had your fun with a photograph of me; I've had my fun with a photograph of you. Fair and square. No winners, no losers."

He looked at her crossly.

"What is it? What's still bothering you? My mom's an idiot and you know she is. There's no reason to get so worked up about it. Besides, the pictures are gone now. Nothing but ashes; you saw to that just now. So isn't it about time to stop being angry and uptight?"

"I'm not uptight."

Somehow this gave way to a crazy sense of déjà-vu…

"Sit down and **relax** for a second then. You didn't exactly take that speech I gave you when I first invited you here to heart, did you? This was supposed to be a **vacation** for you."

He snorted and sat down beside her, arms crossed firmly in front of his chest.

"Some vacation."

"It is what you make of it, princy-boy."

"Hn."

They sat down in silence for a while, both occasionally nibbling on a piece of herb-butter bread, until it neared 11 p.m. and Bulma decided it was time to try and get some sleep in.

* * *

Capsule Corp's heiress was twisting and turning in her bed, overcome with sudden anxiety and worry. How the hell were they going to go about their wishes to the dragonballs?

If the Nameks wanted to go to their new planet as soon as they could they would with the third wish, and they'd have to travel to New Namek to wish the others back. They would at least be able to wish Goku and Krillin to earth's check-in station with the first wish, and wish one of them back to life with the second. It all depended on the Nameks' decision, which would probably be taken by Mori, their new elder.

But this did mean she'd miscalculated: the Nameks wanted to see Goku and thank him for what he'd done. So Yamcha wouldn't come back to life anytime soon…

And wishing Krillin, Yamcha, Tien and Chaozu back were four wishes, not three. By the time a **third** Namekian year had passed Kami's dragonballs would have started working again, and you could wish more people back at once with those. But Krillin and Chaozu had died once before and needed the Namekian dragon to be revived. And if they did just that after waiting for another 130 days when on New Namek, they'd have to pick either Tien or Yamcha for a third wish. And tearing Tien away from Chaozu was inhuman, which meant wishing the three-eyed creep back would be their first priority, and Yamcha would have to wait until earth's dragonballs regenerated. It wasn't fair! This wasn't math she liked to do at all.

Those Nameks had better return the favor of being given a place to stay and stay a bit longer to prevent all of this… Maybe it was selfish to think like that, especially since she really liked the Namekians and was in awe with their flawless kindness, but she couldn't help herself. She hadn't prepared herself for this scenario. It was unbearable.

In the end, she decided to get up and headed toward the living room in nothing but slippers and her white nightshirt that fell to just a little above her knees. Sleeping was useless this way…

* * *

When she entered the living room after her walk through the murky halls and off the stairs that seemed almost invisible and had to be taken step by step, she found that the bulb was still spreading light from the ceiling. She noticed Vegeta was sitting on the couch and that all the pieces of bread had gone by now. Had he not even **tried** to sleep?

She sat down beside him and noticed that theory could be thrown out instantly: he was wearing nothing but his navy-blue jumpsuit. No gloves, no boots to complain about, no armor… just the jumpsuit and the holes in the fabric that always stood out like a sore thumb.

"If you're hungry you could always try the fridge. I can't imagine the food to have grown moldy **that** fast."

For a second she worried if the saiyan would take it as another nudge of hers towards him emptying their fridge for her own convenience. She hadn't actually thought about getting back into their discussion of earlier that day when she'd said it. She'd just been watching the empty plate where she was certain a lot of slices had still lain… but apparently he had noticed that, because he did not seem hostile towards her when he spoke.

"Already tried it. Completely empty. The cupboards too."

"What?! Are you serious?"

He cocked an eyebrow.

"I thought you'd thrown everything out."

"Nope, not me. Must've been my mom's doing. Sorry about that. She's probably planning to restock again tomorrow."

He nodded.

Bulma looked at the time. Past two a.m. Yippee… She felt exhausted but she didn't feel up to going to bed again. She looked at the saiyan that sat beside her, noticing he looked pretty tired too.

"Can't sleep either?"

He shook his head, indicating a 'no'.

She nodded.

They sat there, silence filling the room again. The human heiress wondered how far her father was with repairing their electricity network… she hoped it wouldn't take too long now. Living without the luxury of electricity was such a drag… she was too delicate for that.

She tried to listen intently, trying to pick up sounds from the basement-based laboratory, but there was nothing but silence to fill her eardrums. She was sure she'd hear her dad if she were a Namek, though… she'd noticed their hearing was far more sensitive than a human's while having them around for so long. She wondered if Vegeta would be able to hear him if he tried to (for she was sure he could shut out any type of sound if it annoyed him or if he thought it unimportant). She didn't actually know if a saiyan's hearing was that different from a human's… the only thing she was sure about was the nose, because of the extraordinary sense of smell Goku'd always had. She had to ask him about it when he got back…

"It seems your mad mother's fed everything in the kitchen to those 'pets' your parents like to keep," Vegeta smiled all of the sudden.

"Huh? Where'd you gather that? And if she did, wouldn't she have done it a while ago? She's gone to bed quite some time ago, right?"

"No, she's just done it. And she hasn't gone to bed; she's been in the basement with your father ever since she left the living room. You should really learn to sense some ki, woman, or you just **might** make yourself look like an idiot."

He grinned. He felt on top of things again, obviously. Bulma rolled her eyes. If living in that illusion helped him, then why not… she'd just humor him for now.

"Well okay, so you sensed her ki move toward the courtyard, but how about the food? Oh, wait… You smelt it?"

"Applause for earth's greatest genius."

"Ha – ha… But I didn't hear you about it before; you even said you'd checked the refrigerator and the cupboards. Which means you didn't smell it when she had it with her. So there."

"That I didn't notice it before doesn't mean anything, woman. I just hadn't expected her to bring all that food into that laboratory, and I took her presence there as normal. Compare it to background noise from that TV you cherish so much: when you know it's there and it's supposed to be there; it's easily neglected."

Bulma giggled. "I suppose so. You could have come to the realization after noticing the food had gone missing, though. You've been in the lab before: you know how cold it is down there. Like a giant refrigerator." She winked at the flustered saiyan playfully. Hitting nerves was almost too easy… she really was too smart for her own good.

"Hmph. You having thrown it out just seemed more logical."

"Because?"

He eyed her suspiciously, not sure if he should answer.

"Seemed like something you would do when getting into your head that I want to 'get in your way' and 'make you miserable'."

"Well I **was** sort of right in thinking that you'd still want to eat something from the fridge after dinner."

Vegeta shrugged and kept eyeing her. He hadn't noticed up 'til now that she was wearing nothing but a lengthy shirt. A shirt that even aside of its length was way too big for her: it fluttered around her body like a large sack would have done, not attaching to its shape anywhere. It made her look smaller somehow… more fragile than she already was.

The aqua-haired scientist pulled a strand of hair behind her ear nervously, suddenly shy and self-conscious as the subject of the saiyan's gaze.

But by doing so, she'd apparently made the prince aware of his staring, and he tore his gaze away from her quickly. She couldn't tell because the light-bulb flickered until it faded into blackness at that very moment, but she could've sworn she saw Vegeta blush…

"Probably out of battery… Or, well, I don't actually know what dad made as a power source for this thing…"

"Hn."

She suddenly felt sad and afraid, and she thought the last living saiyan looked more displaced and lost than she'd ever seen him, even if it _was_ a perception made in shadowy darkness…

She shook it off and stood up, taking his hand in hers as she did so.

"C'mon Vegeta, let's give it another try. We'll have electricity again, tomorrow."

He stood up and shook off her hand, but Bulma thought she could see him smile.

"You'll be watching that damned screen the whole day."

"Long live liberty!"

They laughed: one free from worry, one filled with sarcastic though fond amusement.

* * *

**A/N:** Internet is still letting us down here. If I use puppy-dog eyes at school, I might be able to use my USB-stick to upload from the connection there; otherwise it'll be the weekend.

Those familiar with Dragonball will have noticed I've incorporated a bit of information from a couple of episodes into this chapter. I'm more specifically referring to Bulma's miniaturizing-invention to ride on Nimbus because she wasn't pure and her parents explaining her teenage-tantrums by continuously telling everyone she's "at that age". It's also stated in the Dragonball-series that the teenage Bulma skipped school when getting too bored, so I just thought a child Bulma skipping a math-class she could learn nothing from would be realistic and give a nice extra touch. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, please R/R!


	21. Talents of Exaggeration

**Author's Notes:** I HAVE INTERNET! Yay… Thanks for all of the wonderful reviews. This is a short chappie, but I hope you'll like nonetheless. Oh, and this story will definitely comprise of 25 chapters, so there's four more to go after this one until the sequel.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

* * *

Chapter 21: Talents of Exaggeration

At six o'clock in the morning, a yawning Dr. Briefs had put Capsule Corporation's access to electricity back in order, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. But even though the morning of the nineteenth of August has passed into that of the twenty-second by now and electricity has been working all that time, things have still not returned to normal.

'Damn that erratic female,' Vegeta muttered to himself as he entered the living room.

The woman was **still** watching TV, just like she had been when he'd left her to it the evening before, snuggled up in the same stupid blanket, watching the same stupid shows (it was something of a marathon), and with the same neglect of everything that went on around her.

She didn't notice his presence until he resolutely turned off the TV by pulling out the plug.

"Hey! I was watching that!"

"Make me food."

"Ask my mom or a robot."

"**Now**."

"It's bad for the TV to turn it off like that, you know. What if it stops working?!"

"Then I'll finally have peace of mind. Now get at it."

Bulma frowned.

"Is it even morning-time already?"

A vein started throbbing on the saiyan's forehead. She was taking this too far.

"You can find your way to the window to go see yourself."

He left the room and went into the kitchen, pulling some cupboards open himself. It was too tiring to wait around for the woman to do as she was supposed to. Especially the last couple of days. She'd either been watching TV or been busy "improving electricity" down in the basement-leveled laboratory. He hadn't seen her go to bed, although he'd found her sleeping on the couch more than once, and she hadn't appeared for dinner, only eating actual nutritional food if her mother brought it to her personally. Otherwise she was just stuffing herself with strawberries, chocolate and ice-cream… it was disgusting.

The disobedient, obnoxious female had put the plug back in and continued to watch the human idiocy that was on when Vegeta passed the living room a glance again, dry toast in his right hand. It was infuriating. Without a word, he left the compound and took off, into the sky, leaving her to her newfound insanity. Again. A hollow sensation settled in his chest… He wouldn't be able to put up with this much longer.

* * *

"Eh, Bulma? Just a small question?" a lavender-haired man in a white lab-coat tried to address his occupied daughter cautiously.

It took some time before his message progressed in her brain, but he waited patiently for her to turn around until she finally did.

"What is it?"

"I was wondering what that translucent, purple shield in the basement is supposed to do…"

Her face lit up. "Oh! It's working, then? I'll show you." And she suddenly found herself able to turn off the TV with the black remote control and hop off the couch, leading her father to the strange shield he'd just brought up.

She was wearing a baby-blue fleece suit, obviously designed for wear at home, intended for relaxation. The heiress called it her 'lounge-suit' proudly. Her hair had been put in a slightly sloppy braid with a red ribbon very much like the one she used to wear so often.

Unnoticed by her father, the aqua-haired beauty shivered slightly as she took the first bare-footed step upon the cold tiles of the sterile laboratory. She ploughed on almost carelessly until they'd finally reached the brilliant protective sphere she'd made.

"Look, dad," she began her explanation. And she tried to put her finger into the lucid lilac layer that seemed to be nothing more than a vibration of air. Her finger stopped exactly an inch before it could touch. "I **am** trying to get through, but I can't until I switch **this** –", and she pointed to a blue button almost invisible in the wall, "off," she finished with a smile.

Dr. Briefs blinked. "But, the point?"

Her jaw dropped open. The density of her father could be so damned aggravating!

"To protect our emergency power-supplies I spent time perfecting the last couple of days, of course! An explosion can't get through; guaranteed."

He adjusted his glasses on his nose and scratched the back of his head.

"Well, it's great to have electricity with that much protection, I suppose, but are those measures really necessary? It's always fixed within twenty-four hours, after all, and if it wasn't for me blowing up the emergency stack, it would've been fixed much sooner."

"Ugh! Which is exactly why I've put a protective sphere around our **emergency** stack, dad."

"Oh. Yes. Well, I guess you're right then."

"Meow."

"Yes, that's true, kitty: we won't have to mind ourselves about the electricity ever again. If it wasn't for you always working alongside me… Good thinking."

Bulma knitted her eyebrows together. "What do you mean, 'we don't have to mind ever again'? What about maintenance? We don't want catastrophes like the one we've just had!"

"Catastrophes?"

"Argh!"

And she stormed off without another word, leaving a very startled scientist behind her.

* * *

Did her dad not understand **anything**? She might not have Yamcha back when they'd make their wishes to the dragonballs… It all depended on **what** wishes would be made. And if the green inhabitants would want to leave, they'd have to put one of their own wishes aside. The least he and everyone around her could do for her was making sure she had all the luxury she needed every second of every day! How would she manage in medieval circumstances like on Namek, where she couldn't even take a hot bath to push her worries aside? Well, decapsulizing a spare house in the garden was always an option if need be… But that wasn't even the point.

In all honesty, she wasn't sure what _was_, but it was important that she had electricity whenever she wanted it, wherever she wanted it. It was something of a safety-net. Besides, it would be bad for the reputation of the company if people in the neighborhood noticed they couldn't even keep their **own** power sources in order… They could lose clients that way!

She sighed. She needed sleep. She wasn't thinking rationally.

So at eleven o'clock in the morning, the heiress finally turned to brush her teeth and settle down on her bed in her lounge-suit. She covered her bare feet with the fuchsia sheets and fell into a deep sleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.

* * *

Blasts of yellow light lit up the dim area consisting of nothing more than steep rocks and dark clouds that settled around their peaks. The winds were extreme here, but this didn't bother the saiyan prince in the slightest. To the contrary. It was exactly what he'd wanted and what he hadn't been able to find anywhere else on this planet.

Finally a type of weather that **did** something. The warm summer just seemed to drag on forever were West City lay, and he was glad to experience something different for a change.

Besides that, experiencing a different weather-type than those on the compound experienced was liberating in a sense. Like he had nothing to do with the bunch of idiots; like he was really somewhere else. Not on earth. More specifically: just not in their vicinity. And definitely out of the vicinity of the woman and her sudden TV-addiction.

Just thinking about it made him angry. She was acting like a lifeless robot, following some kind of programmed routine that had been installed into her brain.

He'd tried to instigate her into arguments, and she just hadn't responded. There was no liveliness, no spirit… at least there hadn't been until he'd pulled the plug out of the device that had to be made by hell-born humans this morning, and he had won nothing that way, because all her agitated response had been about _was_ the damned TV.

Fuck!

Thinking about the woman had messed with his concentration, and the blasts that had been circling around him, neatly avoiding each other, had been taken by a gust of wind and caused a huge explosion. There was debris flying around, and he protected himself with his arms while he hung in the sky, smoke blocking his vision.

When the smoke cleared, he saw a lot of the steep rocks had gone missing, and there were no longer fierce winds where he was floating. He'd been trying to control the movement of sixteen ki-induced blasts simultaneously… the mess was to be expected after the collision.

His underarms were stinging somewhat. Probably a couple of scratches from impact… which was what you got when you **didn't pay attention!**

He made fists as he berated himself. He was a warrior prince, the royal of royals of what were supposed to be the mightiest people in the universe, and he was slacking off so badly that he allowed himself to be hurt in a routine practice because his thoughts were with a stupid alien woman that needed help with even the insignificant act of opening a **jar**.

It was infuriating and way too much to bear. He set course for Capsule Corporation again, vowing that he would destroy the TV this time if she would be watching…

* * *

A knock on her bedroom door. She opened her eyes.

"Bulma, honey? I've made a bowl of fresh fruit for you."

"Oh, sure… come in." She sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and taking a look at her alarm-clock. Ten past four in the afternoon huh? That really proved she'd needed this.

Her mom put the bowl on her fuchsia sheets and looked up at her. "I've been worried about you, is anything the matter? You've been so closed off and gloomy lately."

"Gloomy? No I'm not gloomy. There's nothing to worry about, mom. I just need a little more beauty-sleep. I'll take it easy and go to bed early and I'll be back to normal in no time."

She yawned and stretched elaborately to prove her mother she was fine and stood up, taking the bowl off her bed. "I'll eat this in front of the TV and just relax there until dinner."

Bunny was pleased. If she was joining them at dinner again it probably hadn't been _that_ big of a problem… maybe it had been hormonal.

* * *

The woman hadn't been around when he returned to Capsule Corporation, at least not in the living room, so the TV had been spared for now. He'd taken something from the kitchen cupboards that would have to serve as lunch for now (where had the darned ditz left all the pre-prepared sandwiches?) and flown off to see if he could train without losing his concentration for once. He couldn't permit his mind to dawdle at the woman and her crazy activities. It was inexcusable. He had better things to think about. Greater things.

So he'd taken a free-fall into the lake again, rinsing his mind of everything unnecessary that clouded his vision and impeded him from reaching into his full saiyan potential. He swam underwater for as long as his body allowed him to without extra oxygen, perfecting his control over the behavior of his ki-blasts in the different laws of the underwater-world.

After he felt he couldn't improve his control more at present time, he flew around the globe a couple of times before returning to the compound, testing out his speed. He was free of unnecessary thoughts and very pleased with himself when he walked into the kitchen.

It was only natural that the pre-prepared sandwiches could be found in the middle cupboard again; the blonde oblivion had been late in noticing, but she knew she had to serve him like she was supposed to. After all, he was royalty!

He ate half of the sandwiches that she'd stocked while sitting at the kitchen-table and then proceeded to enter the living room. That damned cuckoo-clock had just let him know it was five o'clock. He was annoyed at having been let know in such a fashion, but didn't mind the thought that it meant it wouldn't take too long before dinner would be served.

But it was the annoyance that outmatched the latter sensation by far when he saw the woman sitting in front of the TV again. Mindless, just like her mother. Nothing but blank staring. No creativity, no biting intelligence, and not even the bothersome thoughts she felt she _had_ to voice at times… just nothing. 'Long live liberty', she'd called it. Well 'long live liberty' had gone on long enough! He'd put an end to this utter insanity and he'd do it **now**.

In a swift, small blast, a hole was made into the television-screen. It burst, various pieces fell onto the floor, and smoke issued from the inside.

Capsule Corp's heiress looked surprised at first, but was then overcome by a dangerously calm fury as she stood up and turned around, seeing eye to eye with the perpetrator.

"I don't care how you're going to do it, but you **are** going to pay for that, Vegeta. And I mean money."

Vegeta sent her an angry, challenging smile.

"According to your father I already earned this company six billion zeni when I drew the schematics of the scouter you wanted to know about."

The aqua-haired vixen blinked, taken aback. Her dad had **not** informed her of that. But then again, she'd never really thought about it herself…

"Then why don't you ask my dad to actually give you that money?"

"I don't need it. I just like the thought that there's nothing you can refuse me."

She smiled, amused by his reasoning.

"I bet you do. But what about it? If I buy a new TV, will I risk you destroying that one too?"

"It depends," the prince replied serenely.

"On what?!" the beauty shouted, her voice going a pitch higher than had been necessary. The fury had come raging back at his response, but the sense of eerie calmness had left it.

"On whether you're going to be spending as a ridiculous amount of time watching the thing as you've done the last couple of days," Vegeta stated firmly.

"Why the hell is **that** so big a deal to you?!"

"Because it annoys me!"

"How come? Look in a different direction or find something to do and it won't."

"Every time I do just that and get back here you're still at it!"

His voice quivered with infuriation while Bulma had just calmed down and was looking at him searchingly, as if she was studying an intriguing technological appliance that didn't behave like the guide had assured it would. A playful smile tugged at her lips.

"Oh I get it. Someone has been missing out on his attention, hasn't he?"

"What?!"

"Just admit to it, Vegeta… You've been feeling lonely."

"That's a ridiculous suggestion. Feeling lonely is a human emotion, not a saiyan one."

"Is it?" she cooed.

"It is!" he assured her angrily, his eyebrows twitching.

"I'm not so sure, 'Geta, but never mind that. I'll be more available from now on, 'kay?" she teased lightheartedly.

He looked away, his muscles tense. "Hn."

Stupid woman… but at least her liveliness had returned.

Bulma giggled at his flustered stature, touched his chest-plate jokingly and then proceeded into the kitchen, where she'd heard the clatter of pots and pans. Time to see if her mom was cooking up anything decent…


	22. Sparks

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

* * *

Chapter 22: Sparks

A man sat alone on the roof of the Capsule Corporation building, brooding. His hair was unnatural: it stood straight, skywards, growing stubbornly into a point in a way that hair-gel could never manage. Inhuman. Yet it wasn't stiff as you might have expected it to be. The wind rustled through it, causing subtle movement, gentle, just as it would with any human man. Yet it still chose to behave in that strange fashion.

The alien man squinted. He was pondering something, alone on that roof. His muscles tensed as he thought of the self-reliance he'd always been able to pride himself on. Right now, he couldn't. It was lacking. Severely.

Vegeta couldn't pinpoint how and when it had happened. He felt tricked, but that wouldn't get him anywhere. And the blue-haired female, of course, had a great part in this.

Wasn't it around **her** that he couldn't trust himself to behave like he ought to? That his senses blocked? That he couldn't handle himself in such an obvious manner that her maternal instincts nudged her to 'help'? He just couldn't figure it out. Why did she affect him so? Every time she'd gotten too close to him he'd tried to make his intentions perfectly clear. Had tried to impress he would not be made into an earthling. Would not become soft. Remained with a resolve of revenge, death and destruction.

But the way she side-stepped his clarifications and breached his defenses was unnerving and confused him to no end. And he was never able to keep his distance for long. She always lured him back into that web of hers, whatever it was. At moments she felt more like a conniving sorceress than like the spoiled brat she was, infatuated with her looks.

Even though she'd repeatedly gone out of her way to assure him she didn't want to change him into anything, he just couldn't add things up. Maybe it really _was_ unintentional, but he'd gradually started realizing she **was** changing him. Especially after yesterday.

She'd toyed with him, ridiculed him, and he, the saiyan prince, had been foolish enough to let her. And why? She hadn't made a point at all. She was supposed to entertain him; it had practically become her job. She'd been denying the prince of all saiyans by immersing herself into that screen like that! But he'd been too toppled over to think of a counter-argument of any kind. It made him deeply uneasy. Hadn't he employed every measure he could think of to keep her at bay already? Every measure to stay out of her reach?

Ki twirled around his arms and knuckles. She thought she could boss him around. Make him powerless. Weak. An authority he had to bow down to. The only authority he'd had to bow down to in the past had been Frieza. And he was **not** planning to bow down to anyone else, to swallow his pride for someone so mediocre. His past had given him enough damage in that respect. **Enough**. But she'd already made him feel powerless…

He felt trapped. Something was happening and he couldn't change it. He could only hope to fix the damage later on, being it by annihilation or some other means. Kakarot was his first priority and if he wasn't able to compose himself while waiting for his revival, it would be an issue he dealt with later. Two weeks and a day… he could last that long.

He stood up, watching the white of his boots contrast with the yellow of the building through his ebony eyes and the red glow of the sunrise as he looked up.

"Father…"

He suddenly wondered what the old king would think of his lost son if he'd see him standing here, watching from Hell. His vulnerability made so obvious in the torn armor he wore, and his life that had somehow started standing still, giving him room for this silent contemplation.

But he would become legendary. And once he'd done that, he'd show Kakarot what the difference was between low-class and elite. The legend would finally be realized in one with royal blood running through his veins… and his overwhelming, raw power that knew no mercy would form a stark contrast with the powers of Kakarot.

Still, even now, the woman with her aqua hair and deep, blue gaze had gained a constant, nagging presence in his mind. She was powerful. She didn't need to be present to push her vision into his brain. She didn't need to be strong on a physical level, because she always had her spirit and her guts to push her forward. Even if it blinded her at times. Vegeta couldn't deny that he respected her… loathed her and respected her. It was the most ambiguous he'd ever felt about someone… it made his ambivalence regarding Radditz's younger brother pale.

Ruby light and the shadows cast upon him by one of the cylinder-shaped rooms that towered over him played with his features, giving something of a deep brown to his eyes and hair with even a hint of auburn along the lines. Deep circles beneath his eyes blackened as a cloud blocked the sun. He felt weary.

He could study the human city from up here. Even this early in the morning, at a time when most would still call it night, it was vibrant with insignificant life. He wondered why they thought their lives so important. What they knew or suspected of the universe their precious earth was just a minuscule segment of. And yet they all used technological devices that came from humans who knew more. The idiots never wondered…

There was a slight spike in the woman's ki. It faded quickly. She'd probably just been stirring in her sleep, dreaming of whatever would scare her enough to bring about the small fluctuation he'd just felt. He smiled, thinking of the options. Losing her mirror seemed plausible. Snickering, he jumped off the roof, scaring the crap out of poor Bunny Briefs who'd just been watering her rhododendrons. He stepped into the kitchen to grab something to eat, deciding that his issues would solve themselves when he'd finally reach super saiyan.

* * *

From his lookout that floated above the earth, forever glued to the same spot, the tall and wrinkled Namek known as Kami, the guardian of earth, wondered if he should descend to see his people.

He had no memories of his past as a Namekian, but he'd always had strange visions of a planet with blue flora and a green sky and had found himself able to speak in a strange unearthly tongue. The same tongue that had allowed the adventurous human female known as Bulma to open and maneuver the house he'd always stayed close to at Yunzabit Heights when he was still a child. The house that had turned out to be a spaceship.

He'd finally learned of his alien roots when his counterpart Piccolo had as well from the saiyan known as Vegeta, and now he wondered if he shouldn't leave his lookout to Popo for the time being and greet his people before the chance would go by again.

The leaves of the palm trees that were planted in the various rectangle gardens on the white tiles remained still, as if awaiting his decision patiently.

* * *

Bulma woke up feeling well-rested, but still a little annoyed. She'd been dreaming about the three friends that were training at King Kai's place. They'd seemed to be having a shitload of fun for a couple of dead guys! That Tien and Chaozu didn't was normal, but Yamcha could have the courtesy to connect with her telepathically, couldn't he?

She knew very well it had been a dream, but at the same time, it was the truth. The scar-faced warrior was doing just fine up there… and to be truthful, she was doing just fine down here. She didn't **need** him to come back after having waited for 130 days. Of course she'd **like** to have him back, to talk to him again, but the possibility of it taking longer wasn't exactly unbearable. It was just the fact that she'd miscalculated that had set her off, that she couldn't be sure about what to expect, and not the actual uncertainty about when she'd have him again.

It was not really that new of a conclusion to draw, either. Things had been like that between them even when he'd been alive and they had still been dating. Whenever they'd had an argument, or when he was just off training somewhere, she'd never been too bothered about him. She'd been able to go her own way and catch up with him later on.

Well, actually, maybe that was a relief. Being gloomy as her mom had called it wasn't exactly her thing! And Vegeta couldn't cope with it too well when her mind wandered. She smirked at the memory.

He seemed like a little boy to her at times, with behavior as translucent as the sphere she'd created to protect their emergency-stack of power supplies. The guys would never believe it if she told them about the 'evil saiyan' **she** knew… but then again, knowing someone in that way was a woman's privilege. These stupid men were too thick to understand things like that.

* * *

Mori and Kami were conversing in rapid Namek when Piccolo interrupted them.

"What do you think you're doing here, old man?"

The spiteful Namek scrutinized the guardian with coal eyes, his white turban slightly askew on his green, untarnished skin.

"Well hello to you too, Piccolo. Always one for courteous greetings, I see."

The old Namek was smiling, completely in control while Mori looked shocked and worried.

Piccolo took it as a demeaning challenge and repeated his question.

"The same thing you are doing, I believe. Getting to know the people I never knew I had."

"Funny that I haven't seen you around here until now, then."

"You know I have my duties, Piccolo."

"Duties; come off it. What exactly do you do up there all day?! I at least cared enough to face Frieza; to avenge my planet, my people. And I cared enough to stay here, with them, ever since they got to earth. Barging in here for a lousy day doesn't exactly show the same."

"That's a nice sentiment," the guardian smiled, moved.

"You're nothing but pleasantries and courteousness, but at the end of the day, I'm the one who's actually trying to do something. There's nothing real about that goodness of yours."

Kami's slightly yellowing eyes widened in surprise. He adjusted his white robes and the collar of his blue cape before he replied serenely.

"Are you saying that even though I split into two and cast the evil inside me aside, devoting my life entirely to the guardianship of earth, I'm still a bad person?"

The younger Namek snorted, forming his hands to fists.

"I wouldn't take it that far, but you sure as hell aren't as pure-hearted as you believe yourself to be, old geezer."

The guardian of earth blinked and then burst out laughing, slight hiccups echoing from his innards. "You really **are** changing, my dear Piccolo."

Dende had been watching in wonder all that time. So that was the Namek who'd made earth a set of dragonballs and who'd indirectly caused him to meet Gohan and Krillin when they ventured to his planet to wish back their friends? The Namek that guarded the planet that was his best and only friend's home and birthplace… And he was so serene, so calm! It reminded him very much of the solemn kind of care he had to conjure up in his whole being to cure…

But the child hurried away when the two old Nameks walked into his direction, looking back long enough to see a disgruntled Piccolo sit down against a courtyard-tree.

* * *

The saiyan prince had been controlling ki-blasts simultaneously for over six hours now. It was draining and black spots had started appearing in his peripheral vision, but he chose to ignore it. He could do better. He always could.

Kakarot would be back soon. After that, he had to uncover his secret. Kakarot held the key, but he'd still have to find it. And there was always that chance that passing limits while training could shed light on the legend he was so close to attaining.

He was transpiring heavily and lost a couple of the blasts he'd been controlling, causing them to impact with mountains in the vicinity. He was hovering above the lake and added more blasts to his regime in frustration, tapping into his already strained ki-reserves. It was too much. The saiyan prince made a spiraling free-fall into the water, eyes closed.

_A nine-year-old boy lay upon a throne-room floor, a shock of black hair growing wildly out of his head. His body contracted, then relaxed, contracted, then relaxed, subjected to the rhythm of the kicks and punches a lizard-like creature threw at him. _

_The child was smiling; he didn't seem to feel the pain. His mind was traveling elsewhere, away from the terror, protecting his sanity. He imagined holding the ribbed pink skin of the sides of __the lizard's face in his small hands. In his mind, he was slowly and painfully crushing the monster's skull. The illusion pleased him. There was no pain, no thought. Just the disturbing contractions in between the pleasant sensation of the cracking of bone. He was in control and the lizard knew it as he cursed and threw the monkey-brat against the wall harshly. The sensation faded and the pain kicked in as he moaned. _

"_That's better. You really need to start paying attention to your punishments, Vegeta. It would hurt me deeply if everything I tried to teach you would be lost to your single-mindedness, you know. I __**was**__ entrusted with the privilege of raising you, after all."_

_He tried to get up and coughed up blood. There was just no point to it. He tried to walk towards the vague image of the monster in threefold his retina gave him, then fell down again, his hair resting on his master's three-toed feet. _

"_My, my, you certainly are improving. Don't tell me you actually meant to kiss my feet?" he mocked as he took the child's hair in his hands, heaving him upwards. _

_The small Vegeta tried everything he could to regain the vision of the cracking skull, or even the sensation, but the pain to his head was mounting and he couldn't conjure it. It didn't matter, because the punishment ended with a blinding kick to his stomach. _

_Everything went black. _

Vegeta coughed and tried to gasp for air, only to uncover that he couldn't. There was water everywhere around him. He looked up and saw daylight reaching in. The bottom of a lake again, huh?

He swam upwards as fast as his exhausted ki-reserves allowed him to and was finally able to fill his lungs with fresh oxygen. His vision was still unreliable. All the trees nearby were moving. He swam towards the shore and tried to dry himself by using his ki when he climbed up. He couldn't. He was soaked to the bone and he couldn't even dry himself. Perfect.

* * *

Capsule Corp's heiress was enjoying a couple of pastries with her mother while in the living room. She'd chosen to put a red, sleeveless undershirt over one of her orange long-sleeves to serve as her red garment for the day, and she'd gotten a lot of whistles when she'd been shopping earlier, which in her book meant it had been one of her best calls ever.

"Mom," she asked while taking a bite of a chocolate cupcake, "do you think Vegeta's really been training all this time? It's already past three."

"Well sure honey, why not?"

She huffed, blowing a couple of short, disobedient hairs out of her face.

"Yesterday he had to destroy the TV because he thought I'd been watching too much instead of paying him attention. Today I went out to buy a new one and it's not even been on yet – and now he isn't even **around**! He can't expect me to use my time to annoy him when he's not even here, you know."

Bunny giggled pleasantly.

"Oh sweetie, I'm sure he'll be in shortly. He's bound to be growing hungry."

The sound of the kitchen door opening and closing again made the two females look up.

"There you'll have him. Go right ahead and meet up with him, honey," the blonde mother pushed her startled daughter forward determinedly.

"All right, all right," she hissed. "I can walk by myself, you know."

Vegeta was standing in front of an opened refrigerator door. There was water dripping from his hair, and the point his hair usually grew into was split in parts that had trouble defying gravity and fell sideways with the weight. His already dark jumpsuit looked all the darker, and left a lot less to the imagination than it usually did.

Bulma felt a surge somewhere in her abdomen. She hadn't appreciated how handsome he actually was up 'til now. Of course she had a little, but not to this extent. Maybe it was because the first time she'd seen eye to eye with him, he'd been in the presence of that blue guy that had caught her infatuation. What was his name again? Zarbon. Of course he'd turned out to be a monster; Vegeta'd made sure he transformed into that hideous beast. But because he'd been supposed to be evil and all, she hadn't really passed him a proper glance.

"What are you looking at?"

The refrigerator door had closed and the saiyan was observing her, a sandwich in hand. The blue-haired beauty smiled innocently.

"Little old me?"

"Ugh." He rolled his eyes at her little game. "Yes, little, **old**, you."

She formed her lips into a pout. "I was just enjoying the view."

Vegeta's mouth opened slightly. Confusion and shock could be seen flickering in the obsidian of his eyes, and as always, it was anger that followed it. "You were what?!"

"You heard me," she glanced up at him flirtatiously. That shocked type of anger only made him look more attractive; he was subconsciously tensing his muscles, accentuating them even more. She suppressed a blush. "But can't you do something about that by using your ki? Or do you need a towel? That won't dry your suit, though," she referred to his dripping wet state.

He growled and neglected to answer, not knowing how to deal with the outright vulgarity she'd just showed off.

The aqua-haired vixen raised her eyebrows and put her hands on her hips. She was not about to be ignored, so she'd give him five minutes, tops.

To her disdain, she ended up breaking her resolution of silently forcing him to answer her herself when she noticed him ki-drying himself after three sandwiches. He had to have gone far if he needed to replenish his energy that way…

"You okay? Didn't you overdo it a bit?"

He growled again.

"It's none of your concern, woman. Stay out of my hair."

Bulma burst out giggling. "Puh-lease, such an earthly colloquial expression… See who's settled in… So when did I get into your **hair**, 'Geta?"

"Would you stop playing those games?!"

"Not in the mood today, huh?" she asked teasingly while she let her eyes drift to the muscles on his abdomen, not even bothering to hide doing so.

"Just shut up."

She studied him for a while. Maybe she _should_ stop. He looked upset and he was obviously having a bad day… She fought the urge to ruffle his hair just to rub things in and went another way instead.

"Why don't you sit down? You look tired."

He looked at her confusedly. What was with that woman and the constant attitude-changes? Did she want something from him and simply change tactics until she got it or was she that ambivalent for real?

"I won't have time to annoy you if you don't sit down, you know."

The tanned saiyan grumbled something incoherent although Bulma thought she'd clearly heard the word 'insane' somewhere in there, but then he sat down at the kitchen table.

"That's better. As a reward, I'll fetch you something to drink," came her resolute voice, as if she'd just risen to the standards of heroism or royalty, at least.

Vegeta shrugged and his mind drifted. His arms were resting on the table and his back was slightly budged, causing his head to be a lot nearer to his arms than to the back of his seat. Bulma's brows furrowed worriedly. She'd just wanted to play for a bit, but he didn't seem all right today. Well, she'd just have to cheer him up. And she was just the person to do that: she was as brilliant as she was beautiful, after all.

"Did you know Kami was here today?"

That caught his attention.

"Who?"

"The guardian of earth. The Namek that made the set of dragonballs we have here. He's the same person as Piccolo, although very wrinkled, but that's a long story."

The prince's attention wavered again. He didn't know what she expected him to say to that, but it didn't seem like she was going to be telling him anything remotely interesting, and the memory he'd relived was tugging at his brain…

It was as if he'd tucked it somewhere far away, and now his mind didn't give him a say in how much it bugged him. He'd just stopped fighting. Frozen in the knowledge of his own powerlessness. Just like he had been before his former master had done away with him. But there had been no fantasies of crushing skulls left to console him before he died…

Fire was flaming up in bright blue eyes. How could he not be listening to her?! She was telling a story!

"Hello-ho! I wasn't finished yet, asshole," she huffed presumptively.

He looked up at her angrily, as if she'd just peered down somewhere she shouldn't have.

"Get on with it then, wench," he spat.

A mental fire in his black eyes fought with that in her blue ones. Both flames faded as they looked into each other. With downcast eyes, the heiress continued her story.

"I wasn't actually around when he came; Dende actually came to tell me earlier this afternoon. He was very flustered because Piccolo and Kami had been arguing."

The saiyan cocked a black eyebrow.

"They're the same person and they were arguing?"

Bulma smiled uncertainly. This kind of meant she had to explain about the two somehow, but she wasn't very good at it… no reason to make Vegeta aware of that, though.

"Remember that Namek wasn't very populated?"

He nodded, unsure of where she was going with that one, but allowing her to go on.

"It didn't use to be like that. There were a lot more Namekians and the flora and fauna was apparently doing better as well. The planet coped with a couple of atmospheric storms, drastic climate changes, and they died out. Only Guru survived. All Nameks on our compound, except for Piccolo, are his sons.

Kami came here as a whole person in a spaceship. He wanted to become the guardian of earth, but he couldn't because he wasn't pure. He wanted to be a guardian quite badly, I guess, because he split himself in two and so Piccolo came to life as his evil counterpart."

'Wow, that went rather well,' she thought to herself proudly.

Vegeta, however, smirked.

"And evil doesn't age?"

Her eyebrows shot up.

"How do you mean?"

But the prince waited patiently for her to catch up. If she was supposed to be so smart, she'd better do the mind-work herself and proof it to him. He was not unpleased when she did catch up, though.

"You mean the wrinkles? Because I told you Kami has wrinkles?"

His smirk widened, but he remained silent. She could do more than pointing out the obvious if she had half the brains she prided herself on… he was almost willing her to dig deeper.

"Piccolo is young because he's the son of that evil counterpart of Kami's, but technically, he's still the same person as Kami and as his father, because he has his life essence, his soul… It's a very confusing story, but the guy was defeated by Goku and then he spit out an egg and put his soul into it… Then our Piccolo came around, and he fought Goku again, and Goku defeated him as well. And then you guys came and he decided to train Gohan and well; you've seen what happened."

"He weakened," Vegeta concluded her story.

"What no! That wasn't what I was saying at all. Didn't he fight Frieza alongside you? That can hardly be called a weak person. And in case you haven't noticed; he's still creepy."

The saiyan laughed. "That's in your head, female. He's one of you soft goodie-two-shoes. He just has a little more attitude and knows how to plan a battle."

Now it was Bulma's turn to grumble. Couldn't the man allow her a single victory? But the anger seemed rather unimportant when she realized he was doing okay again, melting away like snow would on a sun-warmed day. He was definitely with her in the kitchen in body **and** mind this time. She smirked. The wonderful Bulma Briefs always managed!

"But what were they arguing about, then? The weather?"

Amusement lightened his black eyes. The vixen was pleased he was finally focused on the one he was **supposed** to be focusing on. But it didn't come as a surprise. She _was_ irresistible, after all, and in the end, even the haughty saiyan would have to bow down.

"According to Dende, Piccolo seems to think Kami isn't a very good person."

Vegeta snickered. "He ought to be pleased to hear that, having gone as far as to split himself up…"

"It has a point though, in a sense. If you're not always focused on being nice to others, it's obvious that it's true and sincere when you are. And if you're always focusing on being nice, it could make you wonder about why you do it. Do you want others to be nice to you as well, do you want to be thought of as a nice person, or do you actually mean it? It's actually a tough question. I've been pondering it over all day," the heiress philosophized.

The royal saiyan considered her and her sudden spill of insight and intelligence. She didn't give him time to respond though, as she, as usual, decided she had more to say on the topic.

"If people who usually aren't nice to you are nice just once, it makes you feel a whole lot better than when people who are always nice to you are, or when they go out of their way to do something special…"

She was musing, now; she didn't seem to be expecting a response. Vegeta didn't like the course the conversation had taken one bit, though.

"I'm glad to see you aren't as thick as I thought and that you _did_ notice that the sincerity of the actions of those 'friends' of yours is questionable, but would you **stop** wasting your mind on ridiculous topics like this?!"

"What's ridiculous about it?"

"It's useless. You know that people have ulterior motives and that everything around you is questionable; why mull it over after that conclusion? You're supposed to be a genius, so I'm sure **you**'ll be able to separate the sincere from the insincere," he added mockingly.

The aqua-haired beauty started to play with a loose strand of hair smugly.

"Why **thank** you for the compliment, oh mighty prince."

"Humph."

But his smile made his annoyed response look like nothing and the playfulness and the tension that had started to rise between them enhanced.

Capsule Corp's heiress studied the man in front of her. Tanned features, hair perfectly into a gravity-defying point again, muscles, a refined face that screamed aristocracy and intelligence, and even though he wasn't tall, his whole body was in perfect symmetry.

There was always that brooding quality to his features, no matter if he was being serious or not, and the looks he gave her never lacked in intensity. She suspected it had to do with the royal lineage he came from, but his face just didn't have the possibility to look unintelligent or goofed off. He'd naturally dominate anyone with a weaker mind. It was enthralling to say the least…

Power radiated through his entertained eyes and challenging posture, but she had never been one to back down from a challenge: she was ready for him, any time, any day.

He broke up the moment as he suddenly stood up without warning. The cause soon became evident; Bunny had made her way towards the kitchen and now stood in the opened door towards the living room.

"I just thought I'd start on dinner," she informed them pleasantly.

"Come on, Vegeta," her blue-haired daughter ordered as she walked past her towards a now vacated couch on a red carpet.

Vegeta followed.


	23. Gohan in Charge

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

* * *

Chapter 23: Gohan in Charge

"Here you go, Henry."

The blonde Mrs. Briefs patted the brown T-rex on the rough skin of its forehead as it bent down to inhale the raw meat she'd placed upon the courtyard-ground. The dinosaur always waited patiently for her to feed the other stray animals until she got around to putting the red, juicy meat in front of its greedy form.

"Now; time for some water for all of my precious, thirsty plants," she informed Henry pleasantly as she turned to get her can.

A tabby cat maneuvered in between her legs, making its presence known by pushing its head against her legs while meowing with complaint.

"Oh my, are you still hungry? Just come along to the kitchen then; I'm sure we have some milk to spare."

The cat that had a tortoiseshell-like pattern on its fur followed energetically. This had obviously happened to the animal before; it knew exactly what her words meant.

Bulma looked up as her mom entered the kitchen with a cat in tow, a warm smile tugging at her lips.

"Being fooled into pampering that cat again, mom?"

Her mother winked. "Little Jimmy really likes his milk."

The cyan-haired beauty giggled and took another bite of toast. It was a warm, late summer day and she was wearing a sleeveless azure top, a sparkly diamond necklace, a red mini-skirt and casual sandals. Anything more would surely cause overheating.

She'd decorated her glass of mango-juice with a straw, making it look like a cocktail. Despite the early time it was already her second glass – her throat was aching somewhat and she sought to sooth it with the cold drink. Needing to do just that didn't please her, though, as she knew she had only herself to thank for it. She'd been yelling **a lot** at Vegeta the evening before, only because she'd allowed him to take charge of an argument. She didn't delude herself into thinking they would not argue today – she just resolved to stay on top of things this time around. She was Bulma Briefs from earth, after all, and for as far as she was concerned; she was supposed to dictate the world around her.

Little Jimmy was licking the contents of a small pastry-sized plate happily now, purring. Bunny was rummaging in the cupboards for her watering can, Bulma was taking another sip of her drink, and at that moment, Vegeta entered.

He barely passed those present in the kitchen a glance as he took a couple of pre-made sandwiches out of the refrigerator-compartment where he'd known they would be and turned to leave for the garden through the kitchen-door.

"You might want to take off some of your clothes, Vegeta. You're going to boil alive wearing that armor of yours," the beauty interrupted him smartly, not really minding it if he'd show off more of his abs. Besides; he was not getting around her today… she would not let him.

"Don't use flawed arguments, woman. As I'm sure you remember, I was just fine wearing my armor when you felt the need to continuously prance around in a bathing suit and sit near that pool of yours. And it's obviously not even hot enough for **you** to act that way."

"I told you to get over your hormones and take some off back then, as well."

"And I'm telling you 'no' just as I did before."

She smiled, eyeing him while twirling her necklace around with her fingers. "Too bad."

It came out sounding like somewhat of a pout. He turned around to look her in the face for the first time. Even without the bathing suit, the clothes she'd opted to wear still fell in the category 'revealing' for as far as the saiyan prince was concerned. It was completely inappropriate. He wrinkled his nose in disgust and was about to say something when –

"Excuse me," the blonde human interfered, pressuring Vegeta's muscled arm to get him out of her way to the door.

"I'll just be watering the plants. I don't want those beautiful blossoming flowers to wither in this kind of weather," she stated disapprovingly, as if she was on her way to battle the sun and the battle-hardened saiyan soldier would have to appreciate a determined sentiment like that.

The saiyan's eyes twitched and he moved away, clutching his arm as if she'd burned his skin away. The blue-haired heiress couldn't stop laughing as the figure of her mom faded until it was a mere dot in the distance.

"What are you laughing about?" he grumbled irritably.

"Your face."

"And what is so laughable about my face?"

He looked at her with a feral menace she could only think of as adorable.

"The way it looks when you can't control something around you."

"Hmph. You should've seen your own face yesterday," he smirked, trying to regain the lacking control she'd just referred to and proof her wrong.

"I can imagine I looked angry, but I didn't look like a lost little girl, did I?"

"What are you suggesting?!"

The saiyan prince moved towards her and put a gloved hand on the table angrily, his resolve to leave for the garden forgotten.

"I'm not **suggesting**, I'm **saying**, Vegeta. You should really learn the difference," she informed him arrogantly, closing her eyes with refinement for a moment.

"I don't look lost, woman, and I definitely don't look **little**."

"Well, compared to other men, like Goku…"

"Shut up **now**!"

How dare she compare him to that low-class, or refer to his height. How dare she!

Bulma looked up at him rather amused, that hint of vulgar enjoyment that had recently come into her features when she watched him clearly present. He gritted his teeth. He just didn't know how to deal with this…

"You should really learn to know your place, woman."

"It's right here," she said brightly, patting the chair she occupied with her hand. "And yours is there," she pointed towards the chair opposite her at the other side of the table, "So sit down."

Completely baffled, he did.

* * *

A gigantic man sat at the dinner table of a little house somewhere in the woods. He was tanned and broad, with a huge black beard and mustache and a strange round kind of hat with ivory horns protruding from its sides. Yet his childish smile made anything scary about his appearance fade immediately when you set eyes on him. He was a jolly man who cared with earnest about his family.

"So Chi-Chi, I really think we should visit Bulma's. You're sitting inside the house too much; it can't be healthy to only think about your household. Goku wouldn't have wanted you to isolate yourself. And there aren't many kids his age that would've gotten a mark like that on a math-test after missing out on so much time; so doesn't he deserve to play with that friend of his over there? It'd do you both some good."

He was hoping to get through to his daughter. That way he could finally taste some of the cookies of Bulma's mother again… they were delicious.

The silky-haired woman looked at her father in his lavender blouse with suspenders hopelessly. Maybe he made a point: the only time she'd been out in the last **years** was the time Bulma had invited her on that cruise-ship.

They'd go to Capsule Corporation next week, anyway – but that wasn't to relax. That was because they'd be wishing her Goku back. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea…

"Okay," she decided. "We're going."

Ox-King smiled happily, as if his daughter was actually his mother who'd just allowed her son to take an extra sweet from the jar.

"All right, dad – I can see through that smile of yours. We'll still go, but what's the ulterior motive?"

"What, no, no! I really was thinking about just you and Gohan, sweetie."

She scrutinized her father for a while, but he was looking at her earnestly, now. She shrugged. It could be that no longer living together with her father in the same house had messed with her ability to read his body-language like a book, as she used to be able to.

"I'll get Gohan's nose out of the books," she said resolutely as she stood up.

Her father sighed a relieved sigh. She'd almost had him…

* * *

Vegeta and Bulma were still sitting at the kitchen-table when the doorbell rang and Bunny ran to open it.

"Anyone we know?" the blue-haired heiress asked the prince conversationally, finding his ability to sense ki and pinpoint the owner of a ki-signature very convenient.

"The brat, his crazy mother and someone else," came the gruff reply.

"That'll probably be Chi-Chi's dad. Fun."

He squinted skeptically. "Think so?"

"Not everyone hates company, you know," she giggled. "Why don't you give staying around them a try for once? They're not half-bad, even for your standards."

"Feh. Somehow I can't help but doubt that, woman."

She pressed her index finger's knuckle on his cheek playfully. "Surprise me, princy-boy."

He flushed but wasn't given time to respond to what she suddenly left hanging between them as she left, hips swaying.

* * *

Except for the lack of glasses and broadness, Ox's grandson looked very much like him by wearing suspenders to keep his trousers pulled up, just like he did.

The boy was wearing a pale blue shirt and shorts that were a light shade of brown, which looked quite strange as his pointy, Namekian shoes stuck out below them. But it was a tribute to Piccolo his mother mostly allowed since it seemed so important to her precious only son.

"How wonderful to have you all here," the blonde-haired woman chirped up invitingly, "I'll bake you something. Can I offer you refreshments?"

She led them to the two-person couch in the living room on which Chi-Chi could barely sit next to her father with all the space he took up and Gohan took place on a lavender pouf that was there as well. "You'll probably want some orange-juice, don't you?" Bunny bent down to ask the child. He blushed and nodded.

"And can I make you two a cup of tea?"

"Tea would be great," the black-haired woman smiled appreciatively, undoing her orange scarf so that she sat there in her traditional, purple dress.

"Dad!" she hissed as she elbowed him. He hadn't given their hostess a response.

"Oh um sure, yeah, that'd be great, thank you."

He'd been worrying about **what** Bulma's mother would be baking. Of course anything she'd make was bound to be delicious, but he really wanted those cookies…

"I wonder where Bulma's at," Chi-Chi voiced.

"Here I am!" came a cheery reply as Bulma entered the living room through the door leading up to the entrance hall. The same door the Sons had just used to enter.

"Hey Bulma, where were you?"

"I'd heard the doorbell ring so I just thought I'd fresh up."

"You weren't dressed yet?" the mother asked, surprised.

The heiress's eyebrows shot up.

"No I was, but I have to see if I still look as good as I did when I got dressed if any visitors come by, don't I?" she winked.

Chi-Chi shook her head and the blue-haired beauty grinned, deciding to sit down on the armchair.

"So what brings you here?"

"My father here," she started, touching his arm gratefully, "reminded me of how unhealthy it is to just sit at home all day. Besides, Gohan had a wonderful mark on a math test, and the study-planner clearly said it ought to have taken him half a year of studying to get through all that material and know how to use it. So he deserved a break."

"Wow, what a little genius."

Gohan scratched the back of his head nervously while his mother smiled with pride. Was he expected to just sit with the adults for a while, or could he go and see Dende? He didn't want to jeopardize being here by asking…

Bunny came in with orange juice and tea. She'd already noticed her daughter come in and gave her a refilled glass of mango-juice, straw still in place.

"Chocolate-chip is your favorite, right?" she addressed the demi-saiyan.

His face lit up. "Yeah it is!"

"It should be just fine then," she spoke decisively as she walked back into the kitchen.

"Thanks a lot, ma'am," he blushed.

Ox-King smiled broadly. That meant she would be baking her famous cookies, all right!

Bulma looked at the man skeptically and suppressed a giggle, suddenly knowing how to interpret the convincing speech Chi-Chi had described. She pulled her face into normalcy again to not make the wife of her best friend notice, though… she was very glad they'd come.

* * *

Vegeta had gone to find a quiet place in the courtyard when the woman had left for the intruders. He felt completely frustrated. It felt like there was something constricting his chest and breathing seemed unnatural. His whole being had completely tensed up. He just didn't understand it. Why did that woman feel the need to act that way around him? Where did it get her?

It seemed to lack a proper motivation; something he couldn't deal with. He was used to dealing with people with clear-cut motivations: Frieza wanted a larger empire – economic reasons and reasons of prestige. Zarbon and Dodoria wanted to be close to someone so powerful – pathetic but obvious reasons. And they all gained something by what they did.

Even Kakarot had gained something by keeping him alive after their first encounter – he wanted to fight a fellow saiyan he had been impressed by and test out his strength again. What did she **gain** by acting the way she did? Just enjoyment in his embarrassment?

And what was it with that whole "surprise me" comment? Was she challenging him? Would not proving her wrong mean he was giving her a sign of weakness to feast on?

He formed his knuckles into fists. Well if it was a fight she wanted, then fine. He'd fight her with her own standards and he'd embarrass **her**, for once. It would serve her right… He'd just sit there, though. And if things would go as he wanted them to, they wouldn't even notice he was there. But she would have nothing to hold against him in an argument.

* * *

Both Gohan and his grandfather were munching on Mrs. Briefs her cookies. The young half-saiyan still wondered when he'd be allowed to go outside and play with Dende and if his mother would give him a sign when he could go, but for the time being, that had been pushed to a second place in the list of priorities. Cookies first.

His mom was talking with Bulma, but he couldn't really follow what they were saying. It was probably woman-talk, or a girl-to-girl chat, as he knew the aqua-haired vixen preferred to call it.

A formidable ki-signature entered through the opened door to the entrance hall. He looked behind him and saw the haughty saiyan known as Vegeta sit down on the wooden floor against a wall in the far corner of the room. He sent him a death-glare as he noticed the boy's staring. Gohan gulped and quickly looked ahead of him again.

Suddenly decisive, he inhaled the last of the cookies that were in the bowl neatly placed on his lap and addressed the broad man that sat beside his mother.

"Grandpa? Do you think I can play with Dende now?"

"Oh sure. But look here, first: I have something you two can use to play with!"

And he gave his grandson a present. Both Bulma as Chi-Chi were oblivious to their surroundings when Gohan carefully took the shiny paper off the package and opened it. He recognized it immediately as one of his grandpa's two favorite choices of present-giving: books or vehicles that could move by piloting a remote-control. There was an actual helicopter in this one… He looked at it in awe.

"Thanks a lot, grandpa," he whispered so as not to draw attention to himself from the others present in the room. "I wonder what Dende will think of this."

"Go show him, then." His grandpa winked and Gohan hurried into the entrance hall, sending one last glance at Vegeta who made clear he didn't appreciate that sentiment by spiking his ki warningly. The boy was laughing a little when he ran into fresh air.

* * *

Dende was sitting against a courtyard-tree in the shade, trying for some meditation. Guru had told him the peaceful sensation you reached while meditating was essential to nurture his healing abilities, and he wasn't planning to let them slide. Being one with nature and being given the gift to treasure it by the act of healing were extremely valuable to him.

It meant he was given an important role to play; a role he'd already played when Frieza had targeted their planet for its dragonballs. And it hadn't just been about healing; it was conveying messages and translating wishes as well. Mori had impressed upon him how vital a role he'd played, and he wanted to live up to the expectations his new elder might cherish.

A continuous swishing sound distracted the boy from his thoughts. He got up, curious about its origin. His hearing had picked up what was not quite near him yet, though: he didn't see anything peculiar around him. Just the other Nameks, either lost in meditation or in the games the Briefs family had provided them with.

He started scanning the area by sensing life-forces and all of the sudden, he picked it up.

"Gohan!"

He laughed and ran towards where he knew his friend must be. The sound was extreme where the demi-saiyan was. He held a grey box in hand and was making circles with a handle that was on top of it, but that didn't seem to be the source of that strange swishing-sound.

The black-haired boy smiled brilliantly when he set eyes on his Namekian friend.

"Look, up there!" he pointed enthusiastically towards the sky above him.

And there he saw it. A strange flying vehicle, with rotating wings that made the noise.

"What is that, Gohan?"

He smiled sheepishly and pressed a button, jumping the twenty feet that was needed to fetch the vehicle, that had suddenly stopped floating and making noise, out of thin air.

"This is a helicopter," he explained as he walked up towards his unearthly friend. "Not a real one, of course, but a small one to play with. I can control it with the handle on this box, and I can make it stop by pressing this button. You can make it fly in circles or make loops or even crash-land it – these things were made here, so they don't break very fast."

"Wow. So, it's a toy? A human toy?" Dende questioned.

The demi-saiyan nodded. "It may seem a little boring, especially when you can fly yourself, but you can play a lot of fun games with something so small."

"How come it makes such noise?"

"Oh, I know that! I read about that in a book somewhere. What makes a helicopter fly are the four blades that rotate on top of it – see? And if one of those blades goes forward, it cuts through the wake vortex of the blade that was ahead of it."

"What's a wake vortex?"

Gohan blushed and looked to the ground.

"I don't know," he admitted.

Dende laughed heartily. "Can I give it a try?"

The half-human boy nodded with enthusiasm. "Sure! And maybe we can try and make loops with it. Or make it go through the fountain. That way we can make it rain on Piccolo if we fly it over him," he grinned mischievously.

Lush-green skin whitened. "Is that safe?"

"Aw, Piccolo is like my uncle. He can handle a joke, and maybe he'll spar with me. He'll have forgotten it in no time and you're out of shot, promise!"

"Well, I'll leave that up to you after my try then, okay?"

"Sure," he agreed understandingly.

* * *

It wasn't until Chi-Chi left the living room for a short moment to go to the bathroom that the blue-haired heiress noticed there was another person present in the room beside the Ox-King and herself. Vegeta was sitting tucked in a far-away corner, staring ahead of him.

She smiled but resolved to hide that she'd noticed for now. She couldn't believe it. Of course she _had_ tried to instigate him into coming here, but she hadn't thought for a moment that it'd work so well.

He was so intriguing… she was getting more interested in him by the minute. She'd lived for the thrill of getting under his skin in the past week. Which was probably why it had frustrated her so much that he'd gotten under **her** skin the evening before.

Today was going extremely well, though… he was not getting around her at all.

Bunny Briefs entered, wearing a pink apron with yellow flowers painted on the fabric, a platter with rice-balls in hand.

"Bulma sweetie, would you please clear the coffee-table so I can put this on?"

"Oh sure."

And she stood up to take her empty glass and the empty cups off of the table. She wanted to put them on the red carpet for the time being, but a subtle disapproving noise her mom didn't even have to open her mouth for told her she'd better bring them to the kitchen.

She left irritably, not sure why she had to do all this while her mom was the one who loved to play hostess and the Sons were **friends**, not people they needed to be formal with.

The erratic earthling was still thirsty, though. She gave herself a refill after putting the teacups into the sink and turned to return to the living room when her mother seemed to have another job in store for her.

"Would you be a doll and fetch four pastry-plates, chopsticks and napkins?"

She gritted her teeth.

"Fine. Just a sec."

And she walked towards Vegeta with her drink in hand. Her mom wouldn't want her to leave her drink on the red carpet, she was making her do jobs she didn't feel like doing, and he was the very reason she was so hoarse, wasn't he? She smiled deviously.

"Hold this for me, will you?"

And she'd already put it in his hands and proceeded towards the kitchen again before he could splutter a single counter-argument.

He wanted to yell at her that he was not her servant, that he wasn't planning to hold her stupid drink, but it was a bit late for that – he was already holding it. All he could do to save his composure was wait and draw as less attention to himself as possible.

When the hell had she even noticed him? And to make it all worse, the ditz was eyeing him as well now. Thanks to her.

"Make that five of everything, honey!" Bunny called after her daughter.

"Four. Vegeta doesn't want any."

"Did you ask?"

"I don't need to," she replied as she entered the living room and passed the requested materials to her mother.

She walked towards the startled saiyan again and took her drink back at the same moment when Chi-Chi returned from the bathroom.

"Thanks, cutie."

And she walked back to the armchair and sat down.

"Looks delicious, mom."

A stunned Chi-Chi looked at the man that sat on the floor, blinked, and noticed the spot where she'd thought she'd seen the barbarous saiyan was empty.

* * *

"What the hell were you thinking, Gohan?!" the Namek yelled from the top of his lungs, water dripping from his face to the purple fabric of his outfit.

Dende was hiding behind a tree, holding on to an also slightly dripping helicopter, looking at the scene in wonder. The demi-saiyan's eyes were shining.

"Spar with me?"

The Namek grumbled something incomprehensible.

"That's no way to ask, Gohan."

"Didn't you teach me to always be aware of your surrou –"

"Enough!"

Piccolo had come at him and stopped him talking mid-sentence. He was pleased. That was **his** master, and he'd desperately wanted to show Dende the teacher he was so proud of. He had never been able to show his friend how he'd taught him and how they'd spar. Now he finally could. And he'd been right – as the spar progressed, Piccolo's wrath faded quickly.

Young Dende watched. He was no fighter, and this scene did nothing but prove that fact to him, but he did see how thrilled his friend was, and noticed how close he and Piccolo actually were for the first time.

The only reason he'd been fond of the Namek so far was that Nail was somewhere inside of him, and he was fond of Nail. So he had to be fond of Piccolo on principle. He was one of his people. A friend of Gohan's. A protector. He'd come to know of his temper, but seeing him and his friend spar this way made him realize Piccolo was much more than just that. Inside his mind, he silently thanked his earthling friend for showing him this.

But Gohan was out of practice and he soon spiraled onto the courtyard-grass.

"You okay?!" Dende ran up to him worriedly.

His friend got up and sent him a warm, reassuring smile.

"I thought I taught you to match up to the strength of your enemy when you challenge him as well, kid," Piccolo smiled, humoring his student.

The child laughed. "I'm glad you're my teacher, then."

* * *

Vegeta didn't return to the compound until he was positively sure the intruders had gone. He wouldn't stand for another embarrassing scene. Enough was enough.

He wanted to blame the woman for her behavior, but knew very well he couldn't. He allowed her to get away with it continuously. He just couldn't control her. Either her behavior was becoming more confusing to him, or he was becoming less adequate in coping with it.

His mind felt numb. He hadn't trained while he'd been off, just wandered, and he was still exhausted. It was pathetic. Inexcusable for a saiyan warrior.

What he hadn't expected was for the woman to walk up to him as soon as he entered the gates that led towards the compound. Again, it was something that proved her unpredictability. There was nothing he could be certain of when it came to the games she played with him.

"Hey. Just so you know; it's safe again."

"Believe me, woman, I wouldn't have **thought** about setting another step on this stupid territory of yours if I hadn't known they'd left."

She giggled. "I know."

"Then why come and inform me of their departure?!" he asked incredulously.

"Because it's friendly," the heiress smiled warmly.

She'd thoroughly confused the saiyan now. She felt kind of sorry for him… not guilty, though. When she had her defenses so wide-open, he loved to mess around with her just as much, albeit in his own way. And she hadn't crossed lines that could not be altered a little.

"Why were they here, anyway?" he moodily changed the subject.

"They weren't unanimous about that themselves, to tell you the truth; Chi-Chi thought her father had convinced her to visit, and he had – but…"

She burst into giggles, invoking the saiyan's impatience.

"Explain!"

"They actually came here because 'the brat' his grandfather wanted some of my mom's cookies," she grinned, humor in her bright blue eyes.

"Who'd eat those?" he asked gruffly.

"He loves them, and Gohan does, and I don't mind them as well. C'mon, you've eaten them?"

"When, woman, do you recall me ever taking one bite of those cookies?"

Bulma looked rather stupid as she reached into her brain to find such a recollection. Vegeta smirked superiorly as he saw an opening for his first victory of the day.

"And here I thought you spent all your free time gawking at me."

The heiress batted her eyelashes, not believing he left her with such an opportunity to strike.

"When, Vegeta, did you start assuming I pay attention to what you're **doing** when I do just that?"

The saiyan reddened, shocked.

"Woman!"

She walked up towards his protesting form, ruffled her hand through his hair and proceeded towards the kitchen-door.

"Be familiar with what you decide to play with, little prince."

And she left him, silenced by his own infuriation.


	24. Restlessness

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

* * *

Chapter 24: Restlessness

Gold light emanated from the lower saiyan as his black bird-nest started defying gravity and drank in the golden glow as if in a ray of fierce sunlight. He stood proudly, bold, and his earthling clothes didn't make him any less of a saiyan at that moment. Black eyes became teal, the lack of pupils luring the prince into his gaze.

He needed the key. He'd been brought back to the realm of the living, but the point of having the low-class saiyan back would be lost if he didn't wrest it from him somehow. The key to ascend and become one of the super saiyans of legend. How? How had Kakarot pulled it off; how had he achieved what was supposed to be **his** royal birthright? How had he vanquished the one who'd tormented him all his life… the one that'd been determined to murder saiyan by saiyan until there were none left to pose the threat Kakarot had posed.

Utter darkness swallowed the light that had emanated from the saiyan that had been raised on earth. Prince Vegeta was alone.

"If Frieza confronts you with stronger opponents – you'll grow stronger to match them. And one day, you **will** become a super saiyan. And you'll finish him once and for all and return to your people."

The voice of his father sounded hollow in the blackness around him. Why? Why had Kakarot taken it from him? What did he possess that he, the prince of all saiyans, did not?

Wasn't the super saiyan of legend supposed to be a merciless warrior? An unmatched terror that caused chaos and destruction and lost itself in raw power…

"Nothing but a monkey…"

He twisted and turned, not extinguishing anything around him.

"Frieza?! Show yourself… coward."

There was nothing there.

A splash. He turned again.

Captain Ginyu made a croaky 'ribbit' sound as he looked at him challengingly from his lotus leaf in the middle of a pond that was illuminated by an unknown source. Had **he** orchestrated this? Was he ridiculing him? Again?

A ball of white appeared around his gloved hand.

"So you finally have someone your **own** size to pick on?" a teasing voice resounded.

The way the low-class had been able to sneak up behind him was unnerving. His mere presence was an insult to his heritage. And he wasn't even in his transformed state. The black bird-nest surrounded his features again and he was smiling knowingly.

"Tell me, Kakarot. Is it earth? Is earth the reason?"

His fellow saiyan's smile broadened, but he didn't answer. After all he'd been through; he was refusing him the key. The key that was his by birthright. It was unacceptable.

Gold flames started licking him again and his teal eyes were boring into his onyx ones.

"You can try all you want, but I don't think you'll be able to ascend. You just don't get it."

"What don't I get?!" he questioned as he charged to punch him in the face.

But he'd punched at thin air.

His eyes darted around him nervously. He couldn't sense him. Then suddenly, he felt the low-class saiyan's arms clasp around him, catching him in his grasp. He couldn't budge.

"Such delusions."

The slender lizard was walking up to them in his final form. It couldn't be. The saiyan whose grasp he could not release himself from had become a super saiyan and destroyed him. He'd died by a saiyan's hand, just as he'd always feared. He couldn't be alive. He just couldn't be.

"You're a ghost!"

"Oh my," the monster touched his purple lips playfully, his ruby eyes glimmering with amusement, "I didn't have a clue I was making my favorite prodigy feel haunted. I'm so sorry," he bowed.

"Cut out the bull-shit!" he spitted, blinded by agonized fury.

The prince tried to get to his former master, but Kakarot was still holding him firmly. What was he up to? Didn't he see the saiyan exterminator he had supposedly destroyed standing there, still forming a threat to what was left of their race, their pride?!

"But you should've known better, Vegeta!" Frieza suddenly yelled throatily, beside himself with anger. "I pampered you, gave you special treatment, and what did you do? You went right ahead and betrayed me!" He calmed down. "And you know very well loyalty is very important to me. You saw to the loyalty of my other subjects often enough."

Vegeta found himself being thrown away and saw flickers of purple clash with gold. The purple was weakening when he suddenly found himself trapped in blue liquid, a breathing mask on his face. He couldn't move. He had no injuries for as far as he could tell and he was still stuck in the liquid that consisted of the synthetic DNA of his people. There was no way out and his body wasn't responding to his demands. He needed that key… but no-one would tell him how to work the legend of his ancestors. He was on his own.

He was shivering when he awoke with a shock. He'd kicked his sheets off in his sleep; there was only the navy-blue fabric to keep him warm. He rubbed the cold sweat off his brow and opened the curtains of his window, casting a glance at the blue sky that seemed free from any type of anguish or concern. Unreal…

He tensed his muscles as he kept looking up, filled with resolve. He wouldn't need anyone's help to ascend. He **would** ascend. He just would. He didn't care how he'd do it…

* * *

Capsule Corp's heiress was moving about the house restlessly. They'd summon Porunga in a couple of days. She hadn't gotten around to seeing him back on Namek and wondered if he'd look similar to their Shenron. And all in all, she just felt really nervous. It was a blessed event, of course, but so much would change again after the wishes! They might have to do without the helpful green inhabitants in their courtyard, and they'd probably have the cheerful and oblivious Goku back with his insatiable hunger… And maybe things would turn out otherwise and they'd have the gentle Nameks around for a bit longer, meaning Krillin would return as well, or maybe even one of the guys at King Kai's if events would take an unexpected turn.

However it might turn out, she would have to say goodbye to the life she'd become so familiar with these past months. A life she'd almost embraced after the hazardous tidings she'd been through on Namek, so far from home. It had become something of a warm blanket that brought about comfort and reassurance, and although she knew it was time to rid herself of the blanket, she wasn't looking forward to adjusting so drastically just yet.

Besides, she had gotten very used to having Vegeta around, and she was unsure about what he would decide to do once Goku was among them again.

"As soon as I've reclaimed my birthright and regained my honor, I'm out of here," he'd told her.

So it all depended on when he became a super saiyan, didn't it?

The thought of having to miss out on their daily arguments that kept her sharper than ever depressed her, although she knew she might have to deal with just that in the near future.

But even if he would leave sometime, he'd always come back. She had to believe he would.

Her sense of unease found an echo in her choice of clothing, though: she was wearing nothing but hues of blue. Slim, suede shoes of a bright azure with laces of a darker blue, denim jeans and a powder blue dress with a darker belt to complement it.

It was a chill day of September and although it was officially still summertime, fall seemed keen to start off early this year; it had started drizzling and they'd even had a downpour the day before. The change was too swift; it had been dazzlingly hot a small week ago!

Bulma was usually a very rational person; she prided herself on her lack of superstition and her faith in nothing but absolute **science**. But right now, the misbehavior of the seasons seemed like an ominous sign to her. As if the weather was feeling much would be changing soon as well. Of course that was kind of pathetic; it was only **her** life and that of a couple of people around her that would be changing, not the lives of all humankind. Nothing nature should care about if it was to have a mind of its own…

Vegeta entered the living room she'd been pacing in and remained still in the opened door. He was wearing his jumpsuit and his boots, but he'd neglected to put on his gloves and armor.

Despite her broodiness, just the sight of the saiyan was enough to make various cheeky remarks advance towards her tongue. It was picking the right remark that was the hard part, but not picking was impossible. The urge to mess around with him just couldn't be neglected.

"I see **someone**'s not afraid to get their royal hands dirty today…"

The tanned prince grumbled something, hardly responding as he just stood there, not knowing what to do with himself. He was looking just as blank as he'd done a moment before. She hadn't hit her target at all. Maybe she'd gone for the wrong remark? Admittedly it **was** kind of cheesy. But just adding another comment that had nothing to do with this one would make her look pathetic. Whatever; he just had to react!

"Hello-ho, I was talking to you!"

"I don't recall requesting you to do so," he responded promptly.

Her aqua eyebrows shaped themselves into an angry glare.

"And since when do I need your permission to talk to you?"

He walked up to her, irritable.

"If I'd need your permission, you'd never give it and you'd start missing hearing my voice within the hour," she smirked convincingly.

"Quit dreaming. I'd be thrilled if I got you to shut up for at least an hour."

There was a glint to his obsidian eyes. The anger that was raging beneath the surface was so present that she could almost feel it coursing through her own veins, just by watching him.

"Sure you would be," she replied with a strange kind of soothing sarcasm that was Bulma Briefs to boot.

"What do you mean by that?" he hissed heatedly. "As if I could stand to listen to your foolish comments. There's just no end to that stupidity of yours."

Annoyed, she eyed the angry saiyan. He was standing right in front of her now; she'd pressed her legs against the side of the coffee-table in an attempt to create some distance between her and the disconcerted man. It seemed like he had just come out of his bedroom, but he hadn't taken food from the kitchen or done anything similar to what he usually did.

The spirit left her and she sank back into the dreary state that had sank into her pores when the new month had started and inevitable changes lay ahead. What was the point to continuing this argument? He was spiteful, but still looked just as down as she was…

"Not slept well, huh?" she took a wild guess while trying to keep her composure, smiling with unwavering confidence.

He growled when he realized what she was saying and the change in tone she'd applied, but then resumed to look away from her fierce scrutinizing look, gritting his teeth.

Taking that as a form of admitting to her suggestion, she dragged him to the couch.

It was ironic. She'd tortured him the past week and he hadn't even gotten the chance to get back at her. And now she was staying by his side again after he'd looked her up himself.

His own actions were incomprehensible to him, but his mind was too numbed by his obsession with Kakarot's return and the questions it raised, rendering him unable to think it through properly. His mind was too clouded.

It didn't matter anyway. He'd worry about it **after** becoming a super saiyan, not beforehand.

Bulma looked at him quietly. He didn't seem all that awake yet. The charade of spitefulness had left him somewhat as soon as he'd sat down, and that blank, vacant look covered his face again. Just gazing off into the distance didn't get him anywhere and she wanted to make him snap out of it, but… frankly, she was just too tired herself. Her thoughts were draining her vitality. The usually so feisty heiress was practically mellow.

In the end, they both sat together on the couch silently until their minds cleared and their agitation faded, which occurred pretty much at the same time, the prince's a little sooner than that of the heiress.

"Woman?"

"Hm?"

"You look ridiculous today."

"What?!"

Widely awake now, she looked at him, her eyes sparkling with electricity. The saiyan prince was smiling calmly, observing the storm in front of him take shape.

"And just **what** about me looks ridiculous to your royal judgment?"

"The real question is: what about you **doesn't**?" he asked huskily.

He was smirking, finding amusement in the game the female usually played with him, trying to get back at her. She was good at her self-invented game, though.

"You're paying me a compliment but don't know how, so you insult me instead. I wouldn't have thought it of you, thank you very much, Vegeta. And yes; everything about me **is** beautiful. I'm glad you finally noticed."

He just smiled mysteriously, snickering. She had her arms folded and huffed, but was still confused she hadn't gotten under his skin by turning his words around again.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Your face."

"Vegeta! Stop returning me the favor by saying similar things to what I said days ago, would you."

"Can't stand it?" he taunted.

"Today I can't, no."

"Good."

"What's good about that?!" she shrieked to the arrogant man that sat beside her, a bit of saliva coming along with her sharp voice.

He brushed her sprayed words from his face solemnly and slowly, making Bulma's lack of control more obvious than would have been necessary, and resumed to smile.

"You should be at the receiving end at least sometimes."

That surprised her. Did he think she'd gone too far?

She looked at him thoughtfully. Nah… it was just damaged pride. He had to learn to swallow things sometimes. It was nothing sincere like what had caused them to sit together in silence for so long.

"Well, so should you, that pride of yours is too much of a hazard. You can't enjoy yourself or just let things go. Dealing with things you don't like is good for character-building."

He snorted.

"Look who's talking."

"What?" Her brows furrowed. "There's nothing wrong with my character."

"Sure there isn't," he replied sarcastically.

She closed her eyes tiredly. Vegeta had gone back to normal after whatever nightmare she assumed he'd had, but she still felt just as nervous about the upcoming events, especially now the saiyan was making her think about things she didn't want to think about.

"Yes, there isn't."

What was wrong with her? She was supposed to be spiking up against him as if she signed on for a life-or-death battle. Not reciting he was in the wrong so… mildly.

His stomach growled. He was hungry. He went into the kitchen and returned with an arm filled with sandwiches. He threw a tuna-one in front of her without saying a word and started eating. She looked up in surprise. Had he just done something nice for her?

"Eat!" he snarled angrily as he noticed she was doing nothing but stare at the damned sandwich.

"Thanks," she whispered as she took it into her mouth. He grunted dismissively. A slight smile formed on Bulma's lips.

"You're unbelievable."

"It's no use arguing with you if you're not inventive enough because you didn't eat."

The heiress giggled. As if that had anything to do with an empty stomach… such a typical male conclusion. Or perhaps a saiyan one. He was not entirely wrong, though: she actually started feeling better with every bite she took. She grunted. Way to feed his ego…

"Anyway, Vegeta, as I was saying: I'm beautiful, smart, extremely talented, and my character is flawless."

"You should put that in an advertisement in one of those newspapers you have here."

An unstoppable blush spread across her face. Touché. The prince had hit a sore chord.

"Men throw themselves at me without one, Vegeta," she said dignifiedly.

"Haven't noticed. Maybe they've heard you shrieking around here and had second thoughts about that flawless character of yours."

"I'm glad I can at least deduct that you agree with me being beautiful, smart and talented; which automatically implies you don't think I look ridiculous today at all and that I was right in assuming you were paying me a cloaked compliment."

He swallowed. Shit. He shouldn't have given her that sandwich. Her mind was working again and now she'd been able to tie each loose end together and even refer to the comment he'd started the argument with. He growled. That never was a good sign…

"You prove nothing but your own arrogance by saying so, female."

"If saying so helps you believe you've gotten around it, 'Geta; that's fine by me."

He flushed.

"Stop ridiculing me!"

"Hear-hear, wasn't it you who started this little discussion in the first place? And now you've lost control and little me has won again… ah, the ups and downs of life…"

"Would you stop it with the sense of drama? Your mother's pets will hang themselves if you utter another sentence like that."

"They will or you will?"

But Bunny's sudden entrance gave the saiyan prince no time to answer and regain control over the argument. The blonde woman was wearing diamond earrings and a perfectly purple dress with a reddish glow.

"Wow, mom. Going out?"

She giggled. "I finally convinced your father; he's actually getting into a tux right now!" she spoke jubilantly.

"Are you going to do anything special?"

"An afternoon of pooling and a fancy dinner. I left you and Vegeta plenty of pizzas in the freezer."

"Sure mom, we'll be fine. You just have fun, okay?"

"I sure am planning to," she stated devilishly. "Be good, you two."

Vegeta watched her leave in mounting annoyance and disbelief. 'Be good,' he muttered cynically, exaggerating Bunny's oblivious sentiment. Bulma burst out laughing.

"C'mon you, you know just as well as I do that she doesn't have the depth to have specific, thought-through reasons for saying something like that."

"That's what disturbs me. What kind of subconscious is steering that mother of yours on?"

"That is a mystery, I guess. But she means well; she's a very caring person."

He grumbled something incomprehensible, obviously in disagreement. For as far as he was concerned, everyone who meant well kept their noses far out of other people's business.

"But I guess that means it's just us for the rest of the day. Unless you wanted to count the water-drinking tree-huggers in our courtyard."

He snorted again. "Wasn't planning to."

Bulma giggled. She was very fond of the gentle Nameks, but they _were_ weird and she had to distract the saiyan's attention from her first sentence. She didn't feel like having him growl about being alone with her, and this way, she'd avoided that neatly. Gods, was she smart!

She watched his disgruntled form, feeling that familiar surge in her stomach again. That he was only wearing the blue fabric now was making it worse. She could see every fluctuation of muscle, every curve that made his body even more perfect. And the way he looked to the world through his onyx depths was just… beautiful. In all its mystery and conflict, it really was just that. There was no other word in her vocabulary to describe it.

"Uh, Bulma?"

Her father had entered in a chic, suede coat, a capsule with a car inside already between his fingers.

"I know you wanted to let the company be for a while, but I'd been working on a prototype and I already told the scientists I would have finished it by tomorrow. And, well –"

His daughter jumped up energetically; suddenly ashamed about the way she'd been looking at the man beside her. It was bound to be bothering him.

"I'll get to it right now. Is it in the lab? Any instructions?"

"Yes, it is in the lab, yes. On the table. You'll see in a flash what needs to be done."

"Okay. Have fun, then. Vegeta, I'll catch up with you later, 'kay?"

"Feh!"

The saiyan jumped up touchily. "Just do what you can't help yourself to. I couldn't care less."

With those words, he left for the kitchen. In a couple of seconds, Bulma saw him flying off through the window. She rolled her eyes at his feigned indifference. Baby…

* * *

A red glow filled the horizon as the sun set. His legs dangled off the edge of a cliff as he watched the colors engulf the clouds and the rays slowly stop to caress the ground of this half of earth with their warmth. A couple of stars could already be seen in between the haze of red and orange, informing the earthlings of the night that would soon befall them.

Even with the hints of blue that were in between, the red glow always gave him an instinctual feel of the home that lay buried underneath gruesome memories. As if that past became closer, breaching through the other past that distanced. He closed his eyes to allow the sensation to sink in completely. These were moments he cherished…

He thought of the round buildings of West City and the compound where the woman would be. The sun wasn't near to setting there. He'd just flown off to where he knew it was.

It was fine this way. He'd return when it was about time for those pizzas. He was fine here until then.

But he kept wondering. Was this it? Was this sense of peace why Kakarot had been able to transform? After all, the low-class had lived here without the shackles of memory his whole life…

The super saiyan that had lived a thousand years ago was said to be brutal. He could only stay in his transformed state as an Oozaru. But was how he'd **transformed** brutal? The legend had never mentioned anything about just that… and only that idiot had experience in **this** decade.

He grinned. For the first time, his predicament was actually amusing him.

* * *

"Do you want another slice of the one with pepperoni?"

A shrug. "Sure."

The coffee-table was serving as a messy deposit of pizza-boxes, as was the carpet on which it stood. Whether Bunny Briefs or her blue-haired daughter played hostess was always clear through a screaming difference, even to the untrained eye.

Vegeta looked at the woman lazily as she sat down beside him again, slowly chewing on the slice in hand. Through all those years of servitude in Frieza's army, he had never set eye on a creature with such bright blue eyes you just had to look into. It was unique. He had seen other humans with insane hair-coloring and bright eyes, but hers stood out from miles away. And then you had her temperament… he smiled unknowingly. She really was one of a kind.

Bulma caught his gaze and was surprised he didn't turn away. His eyes kept trained on hers, even though he had to realize she'd noticed and was returning the look. He smiled. She thought he looked like he'd just calculated something successfully: it was a look she'd seen pass over her dad's pale features a billion times before.

There was no movement. Just the prince's slow chewing and the tension both felt building up in their stomachs, a tension meeting amidst the intensity of their unwavering gazes.

A chirping 'cuckoo' could be heard from the kitchen as the heiress had sloppily left the door open, chirping nine times to notify them of the time. Of course the self-proclaimed beauty had been late in making the pizzas and had argued with her house-guest about when she would go about the tiring task of putting them into the oven. Almost habitual.

But the sound of the clock chirping didn't seem to bother Vegeta for once as he slowly began chewing on the crust of his slice, not once breaking eye-contact with the woman that had qualities that made her seem like she existed outside universal laws, an intriguing anomaly…

The front-door slammed and both looked up.

The lavender-haired man could be heard shuffling in the hallway, probably in an attempt to show himself of his most gentleman-like side and put their coats away, and the curly-haired ditz opened the door to the living room and invited herself in, her low heels sounding strangely muffled once she set foot on the carpet.

"I've had a marvelous time!" she giggled as she took her daughter by her hands to lift her from the couch. "Just wonderful!"

"Mom, you smell of sherry."

"Did you know I even got your father to dance? Of course it was just one dance and he was very stiff, but it was out of this world, I tell you."

She seemed in heaven and Bulma smiled, empathizing with her mother's happiness.

Vegeta, however, left for the stairs in disgust. Panic fluttered into her stomach and she left her mom where she was as she called after him.

He stopped in the upstairs hallway, waiting for her to catch up.

"What is it now, woman? It'd better not be one of those stupid sentiments of yours again…"

The aqua-haired heiress furrowed her eyebrows as she looked worriedly over his shoulders to the empty, circular hallway that was ahead of him. She realized that he would be going to bed and that there was no stopping him now her mom was slightly tipsy – something he couldn't cope with at all – but she at least wanted to say goodnight.

At the same time she knew very well that if she were to wish him that, he wouldn't even acknowledge her saying so after the way his mood had swung around just now. He'd leave without another word after she'd uttered her 'stupid sentiment' and she'd end up feeling horrible. But she really wanted to say goodnight quite badly. And she _had_ called after him. She smiled sadly, mildly berating herself. What a silly notion…

But she was praised for her intelligence throughout the world for a reason. There were more roads that led to the answer to your problems… and there was one, now.

She walked around the saiyan prince and faced him, disarming her target by taking his hands into her own.

"Any wounds on these you've been hiding?" she asked while she kept her eyes trained on the lines that trailed his palms.

He was too stunned to reply, but after amply checking them she released him from her touch.

"Seems all right. Coming down without gloves and having had a bad night made my alarm-bells go off," she winked airily at the taken-aback prince. He'd completely lost his composure. Which meant the sudden irritation had faded as well.

"Well, good night, Vegeta."

She smiled up at him one last time as she turned to leave and received a nod after which he left for his room in a flash. Her smile deepened. That nod was all she'd needed.


	25. Through the Anchors of Time

**Author's Notes:** Wow… here it is. The last chapter. I hardly believe it myself.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Dragonball Z nor did I create it, the rightful owners of the series are Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation. I'm just writing a story in the world Toriyama created with the characters he created. The story I make up is my own.

* * *

Chapter 25: Through the Anchors of Time

"That's great. See you tomorrow, then. Bye!"

Capsule Corp's heiress put the receiver away resolutely, pleased with herself. First she'd phoned Kame House to get that over with, and then she'd phoned Chi-Chi; making sure they would be there for the big day tomorrow. Now it was time for some well-earned relaxation now she still had the opportunity to take just that. Kami knew she wouldn't be relaxed for at least a week with all the changes coming up.

And even the saiyan prince that always felt so inclined to bother her was leaving her to herself today. He'd left to train early in the morning and the empty cupboards showed her that he'd either stuffed himself or taken some food along with him. She tended to think it was the latter; he was always very constant in how much he ate. Very meticulous and refined. Of course he ate a lot – but there was a structure there. He'd eat just as much at the same appointed times each day if you didn't count the days that he starved himself. Days that told her beforehand he wasn't doing well – a casual indication of his state of mind.

But today, she was really pleased he'd gone. She'd get some rest in, watch a couple of 'senseless, sentimental, mushy, earthling-movies', maybe go shopping, and maybe catch up with the soap she and her mother always watched and enjoy some gossip about the celebrities that lived in the vicinity. It would be the best way to prepare for a day with as much excitement and anxiety as the one that was coming up.

And it was a nice day for once. Luke-warm with chattering birds and a couple of friendly, white clouds. At least September seemed to realize she'd still earned a bit of summer, as it was only the sixth. It was not fair to take it away from her just yet!

And she'd soak in every smidge of it.

* * *

There was nothing but the ki that coursed through his veins and the impact each time he forced a portion out of his body, drowning all thought.

He reveled in the feel of his unprecedented power, soaked it all in as if he wouldn't be able to experience it in the time to come. As if all his being felt it would be stifled soon by a sense of shameful defeat he had to fight against until he'd overcome the obstacles that had been warped in front of his saiyan heritage.

Warped in front of it and made painfully obvious by a saiyan of a lower class who had been able to dip into that same heritage, putting salt into the open wound that was his pride.

Something was blinding his ki from flowing in the right direction, blocking his access, and he didn't want to feel it or allow his thoughts to linger around the anguish that surrounded the topic. He wanted to feel nothing but the power he'd gained while fighting at the Cold-army's frontline, nothing but his ability to destroy worlds and the absolute fear he could install, _had_ installed… he was the feared Vegeta, and he relished the sensation he'd made himself miss out on for so long.

There was nothing to ruin in the desert around him. It was just a bleak emptiness that reached far into the distance and wasn't impressed by the radical explosions or the haze of smoke that shed it in darkness despite the fierce sun. The ground barely trembled as the saiyan prince allowed spheres of his ki to collide in mid-air, and the only debris he caused were the loose rocks that had already lain littered on the ground. They were lifted by the upheaval of the winds he caused with the rapid explosions. Loose rock found its way to the dusty ground in the eye of the exiled soldier's display of prowess, a silent spectator of his attempt to raise a lost morale and push away the unwelcome predicaments that bothered him.

It reminded him of the truth he'd lived by all his life.

Strength was the only way to secure what the universe neglected to give him: a life worthy of one that belonged on the saiyan throne. It was the only way to take back what he ought to have been given. To undo it all in some strange, warped way.

'Just another delusion', Frieza would have called it.

He bit the inside of his cheek and felt the iron taste of blood fill his mouth. He released the spheres of ki until they plummeted into the ground. The crater gave no sense of relief.

* * *

Lengthy, aqua hair shone with health after Bulma Briefs had taken extra good care of it after a nice bath that had lasted for a welcome thirty minutes. She put on jeans, sneakers and a multi-colored top that looked like various painters had simply thrown the colors on there, causing them to mingle in a nice little idiosyncratic way the heiress appreciated. It was a simple but voguish touch that would definitely allow her to be an eye-catch in the city!

Her bright eyes scanned the shop-windows surreptitiously as she passed them, clearly trained by years of shopping-experience.

She wanted something stylish for tomorrow. It was an important event and she had to have clothing that suited it. She didn't see anything that would do, though…

Knowing full well what to do with such a conundrum, she turned a corner and went into a murky alleyway. Not exactly the type of shortcut anyone should recommend for a lady; she received some shocked stares directed at her back. But she came out of the alleyway just fine and passed various fast-food restaurants as she continued on her sudden determined route.

Finally. There it was. Just as it had always been back in the old days.

'Make your own Outfit' was the red sign that stuck out from the brick building she'd stopped by. She snickered girlishly. "Except that they'll be making it for me…"

And she stepped into the store confidently, an old-fashioned doorbell announcing the arrival of the most important female on the planet.

* * *

"Wow Bulma, it looks amazing."

"Don't worry; I know," the azure-eyed woman assured her mother.

She was wearing a white long-sleeve shirt, a blue sleeveless dress with the turtleneck of the shirt slightly folded over the fabric and with her name printed on it in pallid letters, the belt that was so typical for this simple kind of dresses she'd loved to wear ever since childhood, and besides all that just socks and simple sneakers. All hues of white and blue complemented each other perfectly, and she'd had the owner of the store tell her the symbolism of the colors was just what she needed tomorrow: strong and steadfast, but still kind and inviting.

Even while she couldn't possibly know what changes would befall her the next day; she was ready for any outcome!

"Have you seen dear Vegeta around yet?" Bunny's high-pitched voice interrupted her musings.

"No, I haven't. You mean he's still out training? It'll be dinner in two hours!"

The heiress fidgeted worriedly. She knew she'd been pleased with the saiyan gone for the day, but she'd had enough alone-time to prepare, and it was about time for him to come back, wasn't it? She couldn't bear the thought of not getting to spend any time with him while she was clueless about what would be happening the next day… what if he'd leave?

"Oh well, he'll grow hungry and show up. I'll just start on dinner! A man like that has no way to resist my perfect preparation of carp, mind you!"

Bulma smiled mildly. That was her mom for you… always trying to make you feel better. She hadn't been able to alleviate her worry, though. **She**'d needed some time to herself to prepare. Was that why Vegeta was gone now, too? And if that was the case; how long did **he** need? Fuck; she should have spent time thinking this through yesterday! She could've spent all the time she wanted with him and even orchestrated something to keep him here today. Who **cared** about her alone-time to prepare for the summoning of that stupid dragon… she could've done that in her beauty-sleep. The idea that she needed to prepare herself mentally was just stupid. Of course it **was** how she'd been feeling, but… Damn. That saiyan had better be around at dinner… he was indebted to her that much, wasn't he?

* * *

Vegeta's growling stomach forbade him from postponing his return to Capsule Corporation any longer, but he wasn't planning to stick around for long. With the return of Kakarot so imminent, his strife to become a super saiyan had started consuming him like a taunting flame. It formed such great a contrast with the simplicity of the inferior humans around him that it seemed despicable to be near them. Someone with a goal so great near people so soft-natured, so petty, so helpless… it filled him with indescribable antipathy and resistance.

He would not be dependent on them much longer. His goal was closing in on him, gradually closing in as the Gods ticked time away.

It was those thoughts that had instilled themselves into a pained void somewhere in his stomach when he entered the Briefs kitchen and found the family already sitting at the dinner table.

"Finally showed up, have you?" the aqua-haired vixen piped up.

He didn't say a word and merely sat down at the head of the table, waiting for the ditz who was already going out of her way to get him a plate filled with food.

"Well?"

He squinted at her filthily. Bulma didn't know what she'd done to deserve a treatment like that, but she didn't like it one bit. And she knew what the problem was; he'd closed himself off, taking the possible changes the Namekian dragonballs would cause into calculation, just like he calculated **everything** and never let anything slide. Sick bastard. She'd wanted him as the pleasant company she knew he could be this evening, not – not like this.

Bunny sat down and seemed oblivious to the tension between her daughter and the saiyan man, sipping on a cup of tea that stood beside her plate. Dr. Briefs was just as oblivious to his surroundings, although in his case; there was the science magazine that lay ever so secretly on his lap underneath the table to blame.

When she noticed the prince taking measures to start on his meal, she pushed her chair aside and stood up, bowing down somewhat so her eyes leveled with his own. Vegeta noticed her blue orbs closing in on him and suddenly swallowed, the fixation on his recovered antipathy for the humans melting away in the wake of her intense gaze. And there it was again; she was doing just what **he** was supposed to be doing; making him feel absolutely intimidated. He growled; a feral sound that seemed to stem from somewhere deep inside his throat.

She sighed and backed off. "Just don't start acting all high-and-mighty because Goku'll come tomorrow, will you? It's ruining the day."

She sat down again demonstratively and started on her still untouched carp. He sent her a puzzled look. Was that what she perceived him to be doing? He hadn't even looked at it that way…

He began on his meal as well; a pained silence stretching over them. His mind was giving him a headache, and the sense of discomfort that had spread through his body was unbearable.

* * *

Black headphones covered the aqua of the heiress's hair as she sat on the couch, listening to the music playing on the radio. She hardly ever listened to the radio; it was something special that she only indulged in on nights she felt extremely off and lonely.

Vegeta had left quickly after dinner. It had looked more like running away than like a very 'I don't want to be here' kind of act, and the insecure look he'd sent her before leaving had spoken volumes, although she didn't know what exactly to gather from what she'd seen displayed there. Of course, the look had faded quickly and had looked haughtier and more demeaning when he'd turned to fly off, but she had enough experience with him by now not to doubt what she'd seen. Her intuition thrived when it came to the mystery that was that man.

But what was the point of having her intuition as a guide when he wasn't around so she could use it? It was the most depressing thing… and her worry about the following day was only increasing. He was bound to stay around until he'd become a super saiyan at least, which was why he'd wanted Goku back in the first place, but his attitude had changed so drastically at the prospect alone! She wouldn't have him like she'd had him the past months.

'Have' him… that was a strange thought. But it was true, wasn't it? She'd come to know a side of the saiyan prince she doubted anyone had ever known… and it was about to be wasted. If he chose to put his heart back into the freezer, she had nothing to say on the matter.

But she **wanted** to have something to say… wanted to quite desperately.

She looked at her bare, smooth legs gloomily and kicked her feet back and forth, watching the dark blue sneakers and the cute baby-blue socks that were tucked up somewhat. She just hadn't been able to get herself to change back into what she'd been wearing…

In the end, the music lulled her to sleep until she awoke with a shock when the living-room clock gave a beep that indicated it to be one a.m.

She jumped up, suddenly wide awake. Stars were twinkling at her through the window, compelling her to come and admire them outside. Elevated by a sense of calm and peace she had not possessed before her radio-session, the beauty walked into the garden in the direction of her father's spaceship. She could see her breath take form in white condensation as she exhaled and a slight shiver passed over her; the stars were beautiful, but the lack of clouds definitely made it chill. The thought of going back inside and fetching a jacket didn't cross her mind, though; she just kept walking towards the spaceship.

It was as if she'd expected him to be there. An unspeakable parallel tying these strange days together, a parallel of which it would have been unheard if it had **not** been there. An evanescent feeling of predestination crushed over her as she took place beside Vegeta.

"Hey," she greeted him warmly, pretending nothing negative had ever passed between them.

"Hn."

He was looking up at the stars but still looked like he was studying his innards more than the star-strewn sky… something about that sky had locked him in his own mind – made him travel where she couldn't follow. Something was wrong.

"Why have you been going off all day?" she asked directly, touching his shoulder to make sure his attention would turn to her.

The look he gave her scared her – not because he gave a look of menace or anger – that was just the usual display that could be easily seen through.

But the look he gave her was hollow, searching, pained – as if the image of her presence beside him was actually having trouble sinking in as a reality.

He shrugged and glanced to the houses in the far distance.

"I didn't want to think."

The truthful answer surprised her. His closed-off attitude all day hadn't exactly suggested him to ever open up again, and especially not at such short notice. She still took the opportunity, though.

"I suppose I kind of did my own version of that today."

He studied her. A slight, sardonic smile even formed on his lips this time around.

"Shopping?"

"Among other things."

But the saiyan prince's smile faltered as he suddenly closed his eyes shut and reached to his head with his right hand, trying to force away a demon invisible to the woman beside him.

"I **really** wanted you to enjoy the fireworks, Vegeta… They were to – **die** – for."

Echoes… just echoes. He had to ignore –

"_With all due respect, king; you saiyans are nothing but slaves of power in a world of fear," a representative of an alien government spoke as he bowed before the saiyan-throne. A second later, he had been incinerated. A three-year-old boy watched… _

_An agile tail struck, struck, struck again. And with every strike, the words repeated, repeated, repeated themselves. "Weak. Monkey. Boy. Weak. Monkey. Boy." There was nothing reassuring about the rhythm of torture. And the mental anguish never faded; it intensified with each strike. 'Proof yourself, proof yourself… weakling.' His mind kept imprinting the same thing, strike by strike. Helpless tears turned to bitterness, bitterness turned to hatred, and hatred smoldered silently, secretly, cunningly, until it polished into vengeance. _

The woman's hand on the part of his back that was bare through the hole in the navy-blue jumpsuit he was wearing snapped him back to the present. His eyes immediately fell upon the red glow in the middle of a faraway galaxy again. It was burning his retina.

He closed his eyes and forced his breathing to slow, forced the images to fade into the webbed dungeons of his mind they belonged in, forced his heartbeat to normalize. He felt like he'd been blasting mountains for hours. The woman's hand remained familiarly on bare skin.

"You want to talk about it?"

He felt her legs that brushed his own, her warmth, her naïve but genuine hint of interest mingled with sorrow… he remembered how she woke him from a nightmare, weeks ago… how she was always, annoyingly, undeniably – there.

He felt her stroking hand, moving from his back to his shoulder to his hair… she was hypnotizing him, but her presence lifted so much of the pressure, of…

"Any specific stars you're looking at when you sit here? You seem to have developed a habit of star-gazing at this exact spot…"

"Not until tonight."

Her eyebrows shot up and he felt like he could bite his tongue, but he'd already lifted too much of the barrier around him to shut down again. She was **so** close…

She waited for him to elaborate, noticing that he seemed to consider her. It paid off.

"That anchor-shaped galaxy there," he nodded to a place in a right-up corner of her vision.

She searched, but even before she found it, something had already started dawning on her.

"Your planet? The saiyan planet?"

A nod. "As intact as it's once been. To this pitiful mud-ball; we saiyans might just have started existing"

It took her a while to process this new information. So that was the reason he was so lost inside himself tonight… the confrontation with a home he'd never reach again.

His eyes closed shut again and his whole body tensed. He shivered – trashed – as if a nightmare came to torment him while awake. Earth's nighttime sky was playing a sick joke on him – and she held nothing that could make the image of the lost planet fade – nothing that could protect him from the harsh, punishing sarcasm of the skies.

The groans were too much for her to endure – there was no way to reach him or save him from the clutches of that living nightmare.

Her arms closed around his tense form, she resumed stroking the bare skin of his back, she pressed her head against his chest – she didn't care that she was sitting on his lap this way. Damn it, damn it… why couldn't he just be left alone? He was not a bad person. He didn't have to endure this bullshit! Tears glistened in her eyes as she pressed her body against his, willing her mind to comfort, willing his heartbeat to slow, willing his mind to return…

Conflicting, fast, almost undecipherable notions of fear, anger and hurt passed through the onyx of his eyes as his surroundings on earth took shape again. The woman…

She lifted her face a couple of inches.

"It must hurt like hell – the irony of seeing your planet while you know it's gone."

A scathing 'tsk' as the saiyan prince tore his gaze away from her.

"Don't delude yourself by thinking you know me and my ways, woman."

"I don't need to," she answered cryptically as she pressed her face against his chest again, tightening the grip her arms had around his body, her aqua hair nuzzling against the bare skin of his abdomen.

He tensed again, but at the same time – he couldn't possibly push her away. She was like a drug, keeping the flow of nasty memories at the sight of his battered home at a safe distance. Only now her head was resting against his chest he felt something resembling peace. He felt his muscles relaxing under her comforting pressure, and he just – gave up. Everything tense and demanding slid off of him, and for the first time in eons, he just _was_. There were no expectations, there was no pressure… there was only her soothing warmth, her soft skin, her so alien yet so familiar presence, and the fact that she was there, now, just for him. It was a sensation he'd never experienced before – he hadn't even known such a thing existed.

When he felt her body shiver, frailly incapable of dealing with the cold of a cloudless night, his arms wrapped themselves around her without a single thought to accompany that act.

He could watch the saiyan galaxy without repercussions from his mind now he had her with him. He could imagine his ancestors transforming to a full moon, building homes, eating, brawling… imagine whatever past of Planet Vegeta earth's sky projected to him.

Bulma felt her heart jump as the prince's arms clasped around her, lost in his embrace. Who had ever seen this coming? As soon as his strong, muscled arms had pressed her body against his own in return she'd felt his ki surge over her; a soothing, warming fire… Without needing the words to say it, he'd completely accepted her. Her leadership, her comfort… everything.

The sense of safety while lying against the saiyan millions of people would want to stay as far away from as possible lulled her into a peaceful slumber.

Vegeta kept watching the anchor-shaped galaxy, the shape of the anchor that so resembled the symbol of the royal family. He couldn't keep his eyes off it… it had been so long since he'd seen the destroyed planet in a nighttime-sky somewhere. Even though it was a past distanced from him by countless light-years, his old home still beckoned to him and demeaned him for leaving it to its cruel fate. Painful memories were closing in, coming to the surface through that one, haunting trigger, but whenever he focused on the frail creature he was holding, her warmth and her shallow breaths, the memories plunged back to where they belonged.

It was strange, he thought as he twirled an aqua strand of hair between his gloveless fingers; unworldly… Just what was she?

But he still kept her with him, and even thought he'd slept himself for a while.

The stars faded and birds began to chatter as dawn came knocking on earth's door, and slowly, he removed her arms that were still wrapped around him, removed her from his lap, and laid her down in front of the spaceship without waking her.

* * *

When had that man left her on the ground? That was no way to treat a lady! Arrogant stiff-neck… just when you thought you'd finally gotten through to him!

She'd freshened up and was looking absolutely radiant again in her new clothes despite having spent the night sleeping in them outdoors, if she said so herself, but now Vegeta was nowhere to be found again. History was repeating, wasn't it? Sure, she might be endangering his pride or whatever, but avoiding her was plain discourteousness.

Although she had to agree that how close she'd come the night before might just be a bit too much for him to bear, especially because of the attitude he'd tried to employ towards her earlier that day. It probably screamed 'losing face' in that warped dictionary he lived by.

There was no time to worry about him too much today, though. A lot of guests would be dropping by…

* * *

Master Roshi in a dark-brown suit with hat and everything and Oolong in a salmon-colored blouse had already joined the company that had gathered in the compound. Vegeta was standing against a wall and Bulma walked up to him smartly.

"Hey you, I see **you**'re all ready for a fight with Goku with that battered armor of yours on," she winked suggestively.

"Hmph."

He turned his head away from her, his arms crossed firmly in front of his chest.

She giggled. "We're not due for a couple of minutes; we're still waiting for Chi-Chi and Gohan, so if you want a refreshment or anything; just give a shout, will ya?"

Ugh… what was that woman thinking? The last thing on his mind right now was getting a bloody refreshment… the brat and his mother had better hurry.

"Well?"

"Just summon that damned dragon!"

"Patience, 'Geta… Patience is very important."

And she walked back to the Nameks and the dragonballs that lay ready on the white tiles near the palm trees without another word. Her ridicule was infuriating, but it was easily discarded as he set eyes on the dragonballs and knew what they implied… besides, he felt the demi-saiyan nearing.

The floating feline was there as well. And of course the bubblehead in her white dress with blue dots that somehow seemed reserved for what these earthlings deemed to call 'joyous occasions', and the woman's oblivious father.

He tried to refrain from listening to the senseless chatter, from the lunatic mother and her son being called 'fashionably late', and just to focus on the summoning of the dragon of legend that would fulfill three wishes and bring Kakarot back.

And it began… the young boy known as Dende summoned the eternal Porunga in his Namek tongue, the alligator-like dragon known as 'dragon of dreams', and the sky darkened and the huge monstrosity came shooting out, spiraling into the heavens.

Rough skin, a large fin, many protruding black horns, a gigantic upper-body, antennae like the green beans themselves had… it was a brutal sight of a gentle dragon.

"You have summoned me. I will now grant you three wishes. Now, proceed with your wishes," the dragon spoke in a gruff, deep voice.

Just a couple of seconds later, Bulma heard what she perceived to be music in her ears through the persona of Mori: "Go ahead, my friends. We can wait another 130 days to start our new life. Besides, I think I can improve my punch."

Gohan saw to it that the elder got a bit more golf-advice and both Chi-Chi in her pink dress accented with purple and red embroidery as Bulma looked at the Namek warmly.

"Well shoot, let's do it then! Please bring Goku and Krillin to earth's check-in station in the spirit realm!"

Dende was quick to translate the heiress's wish, and then, they waited.

But learning that Goku could not be moved to the spirit realm without dying shocked everyone. He really was still alive? But how could he have survived Namek? And why hadn't he come back? Gohan offered that his father's ship might be broken, and Mori offered that they could simply wish him back to earth.

Expectation was rising in Vegeta now. In just a couple of seconds, the low-class super saiyan would be standing in front of those balls…

He couldn't believe it when they wished the bald-headed shorty back first. Hadn't the Namekian elder just given them the opportunity to wish Kakarot here? Why talk about doing that and then bring baldy back first? And what was with the applause? Couldn't they get the hell on with it?!

"Hey, people, move it, one more wish!"

Seemed like the dragon was actually agreeing… ugh, and of course, the woman just _had_ to go and call the oversized lizard cute… just great.

But now it was happening… the Namek kid had just translated the woman's wish… The dragon's red eyes were glowing… just a couple of seconds more…

"Silence! It can't be done! The one called Goku refuses to return and says he'll come back later…"

The chaos that erupted in the group in front of him was lost in a haze. Kakarot had been alive all that time… How much training had he undertaken by now, perfecting his super saiyan skills, while he had been… his eyes were twitching. This was madness!

The ground shook as the circular Capsule Corp spaceship took off.

Bulma looked up at the sky, shocked. He was gone. Just like she'd been fearing… gone.

"Forget about him!" she heard Piccolo's harsh, demanding voice. "He's gone. No big loss. Don't you guys have some friends at King Kai's that wanna come back?"

"Oh, yeah – three of them," she replied confusedly, having trouble directing her attention back to the events taking place around her. "But who should we wish back first?"

King Kai contacted with her personally this time around, telling her the guys had talked about it and chosen to have Yamcha return.

"Yamcha, huh? Okay. He probably drew the short straw. I'll bet he cheated. Hey Dende, Yamcha's our man!"

The green boy translated the wish, and Porunga informed them he'd fulfilled it and turned to leave – left – and the sky was returning to its blue old self, but there was no Yamcha around.

"Oh man, bummer. The dragon shortchanged us…"

"No, he didn't. I'm over here!"

And there he stood… same old Yamcha. Dripping wet, a lopsided-grin, and that slimy, but, as she now knew, harmless Ginyu-frog on top of his head.

* * *

He'd been traveling in space for hours, no clear direction in mind. He had to catch up with Kakarot someway, wherever he was…

He could no longer sense the ki-signatures of earth's inhabitants. It was assuring him he had finally said his goodbyes to whatever ill state of mind had kept him there, wasting time he could have been spending in pursuit of something greater… but at the same time, it felt like it was tearing him apart. It had been the closest to having a home since the years on his home-planet of his early childhood, a vast interruption in his life of wandering and conquest.

Which was exactly why he'd been right to abandon it. He wouldn't survive in the battle of the strongest warriors of the universe if he had ties like that to slow him down. It was unbefitting for a saiyan warrior.

But with a twinge of pain, he'd still felt a ki-signature of a stronger-than-average human near the woman when he was only minutes away from earth.

He hadn't been able to sense ki back when he and Nappa had come to earth, but something about that ki had still made him feel confident it had to be the scar-faced human. Her mate, wasn't it? He forced the image of those blue orbs out of his mind, the sensation of her skin against his, and set course for a planet he'd recognized as loyal to the Colds.

Poor saps didn't know what was coming for them… he'd rip them to pieces, limb by limb. If Frieza couldn't have his vengeance, they'd have it… every last one of them.

* * *

Turquoise hair glimmered in shadow as Capsule Corp's heiress leaned on the balcony-rail, watching the stars. She wondered where the saiyan prince would be by now. What was he doing out there? Would he be okay, all by himself?

Nothing could shield him from his memories in the vast emptiness that was space…

But he was determined and strong. He'd do everything in his power to find Goku; she was sure of it. His resolve to become a super saiyan, to reclaim his birthright and regain his honor, was both a consuming evil as what kept him going.

She really hoped he'd find Goku, or the other way around.

"Please return together," she whispered pleadingly, as if the stars could hear and fulfill wishes like Porunga could, and make the ones the wish had been about bend to her will. No "I'll come back later", no "I'm out of here as soon as I've gotten what I wanted"… what were these stubborn saiyans even thinking? They both belonged here.

"Bring him back for us, Vegeta. I have faith in you."

"You have faith in who?"

She gulped, not having noticed Yamcha walk up behind her.

"Hey babe, I thought you said you were going to change into a more comfortable outfit?"

"Uh, yeah, I was."

"Thinking of where Goku's at, huh? I wonder what he's doing out there, too."

He stepped forward until he was standing beside her, his long black hair messily falling down his back, and watched the stars.

"I'll just go change now, Yamcha. See you in a sec."

"Sure."

And he remained to stand there quite alone, wondering about his old rival's whereabouts in space.

* * *

They'd never heard of a saiyan who called himself Goku, and they'd dared say they'd pledged allegiance to the almighty Frieza alone. He'd left none alive. He'd shed the skin of soft-heartedness the earthlings had tried to build around him. He was the feared prince Vegeta once again, and he bowed down to no-one. Heartlessness was his only rule. Without it, you did nothing but weaken. And he was not weakening again. It had been enough.

'Kakarot… just where are you?'

Nothing was as imprinted in his mind as the low class's ki signature was. That mocking ki-signature. Of a child-saiyan who knew nothing but play games. But he was around here, somewhere. And he'd find him. Knowing him, he already knew very well he was being searched for… but he had the right to search him out.

"After I've unlocked my super saiyan potential, we'll find out soon enough whether an elite will always be superior to one of a lower class, Kakarot. Just you wait."

Just the thrill of envisaging that climactic battle was enough to keep him going. He set off in the spaceship he'd claimed as his own again. 'Just you wait…'

* * *

"Look, do you want me to show you to your room, or not?"

"That will be sufficient."

She looked at the man in front of her angrily, placing her hands on her hips. That tone!

She marched to the house, he followed.

"You're staring at me as if I were a different species."

A mocking smile. The white tiles of the garden were replaced by their upstairs-hallway.

"You really shouldn't scream; it distorts your features."

She wanted to pound him until there was nothing left. But the image faded and she looked up surprised as she suddenly saw the man with the gravity-defying hair sit on his bed.

"I don't."

What was he even talking about?

"You don't what?"

"Regret it."

Understanding dawned on her as the sense of déjà-vu hit. She realized she had to be dreaming of things that had passed between herself and Vegeta before, and actually started to wonder out loud when she would wake up.

He looked at her confusedly; lost, searching. It was that look that had burned itself onto her mind's eye when she opened her blue orbs and stared at the ceiling of her bedroom. She wondered if this was her women's intuition telling her he was lost out there by himself…

"Don't lose yourself out there, you obstinate monkey. I'll be expecting the **real** you back **sometime**, and you know I don't take no for an answer."

A smile stretched on her features as if she was confident the saiyan prince had either heard her or knew she was right deep in his heart without needing to, and she fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for sticking with me for so long! Please let me know what you thought of the last installment to 'The 130 Days', and of the story as a whole now it's finished. The sequel will be called: 'Passion and Loneliness'. I won't guarantee when the sequel will come, as I want to take a break and have a Dende/Gohan one-shot in mind I want to focus on first. It'll be August at the very latest, and chances are that if you see the sequel pop up sooner the updates just won't be as regular as what I've been able to give you with 'The 130 Days' so far, as I have to take my examinations in May and July into consideration. But don't worry; it'll be fine and I won't let the sequel slide, trust me! Again, thanks for sticking with me.


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